Always the One
by Beccabo
Summary: Emerson is on a mission to exact vengeance on her best friend's lying, cheating husband. So she enlists the help of her childhood crush, Steve McGarrett, but changes her mind at the last second. Too late, Steve realizes she's up to something and he's having none of it. She's having none of him. But Steve has handcuffs and he's not afraid to use them. Steve/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note - _Hello old friends and new readers! I am back with another Hawaii Five-0 fic and another original character. I hope you come to like Emerson and her crazy antics because I think Steve needs a little crazy fun in his life. This is just an intro chapter to start off on but I am already working on the next chapter, so it should be up soon. If you have time, please leave a review with your thoughts on this new story. Enjoy..._**

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**Chapter One**

_Outside Five-0 Headquarters..._

Emerson sat in her silver Jeep Grand Cherokee with her hands resting on the steering wheel, her forehead resting on her hands, and wondering what in the hell she was doing. Not only what she was doing parked on King Street outside the Hawaii Five-0 Headquarters, where Steve worked, but any of it. All of it. The whole shebang.

"I'm going nuts," Emerson muttered out loud to herself. "Completely freakin' nuts."

But she hadn't felt nuts when she started out. In truth, she wanted to see Steve. She had wanted to see him for four years. So why hadn't she simply called him up and asked him over for dinner like a normal person?

Because she was nuts.

And because she has spent the last few years realizing that men suck. Men were scum. All of them. But that morning she had a weak moment and she remembered that Steve didn't suck. She liked Steve. Emerson had liked Steve since he moved in across the street when she was eight years old and he was twelve. He was the most gorgeous boy she had ever seen in her little girl life. And when she had seen him at his father's funeral four years ago, Emerson realized he had turned into the most gorgeous man.

Men sucked, on the whole, but Steve had always been ultra-nice to Emerson. But then, as a kid, she was fat, four-eyed and had mousy brown hair. And when she saw him at the funeral, she was still fat (_more so_), four-eyed and had mousy brown hair. So she figured all that time he probably felt sorry for her.

But now Emerson was seventy-five pounds lighter, wearing contacts and had her hair streaked blonde so that was the same color as both of her glamorous sisters' hair. The last time she saw Steve he was wearing his Navy dress blues and boy could that man wear a uniform. At the funeral, Emerson had nearly melted into a puddle when his eyes moved through the graveside crowd and stopped on her. They got soft, and one side of his mouth went up in one of his half-smirks that made him look so yumalicious you wanted to pounce on him. Instead of shoving the mourners aside and pouncing (_which would have been highly inappropriate_), she had given him what she hoped was a jaunty wink and a stupid half-wave. His grin went full-fledged (_guess the jaunty wink worked, but then again Emerson's stupid, dorky behavior always seemed to amuse Steve_) and he turned away.

That was the very day Emerson Rose Leigh Kennedy had decided to turn her life around.

And now she needed Steve.

She knew from his sister Mary, one of Emerson's closest friends as a child, that Steve had not returned to the Navy SEALS but had instead stayed in Hawaii to lead the Five-O task force. Steve had always been a badass. As a teenager he drove muscle cars (_loud and fast)_ and motorcycles (_again, loud and fast_) and sat in his parent's garage with the door rolled up, lifting weights and throwing the football around with his friends. Emerson had watched this out of her bedroom window and it was better than anything on television. He always had a different girlfriend and you could tell they were all easy, but a nun would turn easy with one look at Steve McGarrett. He was a tough guy in high school and he became a tougher guy when he joined the SEALS.

And right now, Emerson needed a tough guy.

So before she could chicken out, the perky brunette got out of the Jeep, walked up the brick sidewalk and went into the Kekuanaoa building.


	2. Chapter 2

**And so it begins...**

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**Chapter Two**

_Five minutes later…_

"Can I help you?" the lady behind the desk asked politely as Emerson pushed open the glass doors leading into the reception area of the Five-O offices. She was an older Hawaiian woman with a round face, a sweet smile, and a desk plate that read Mia.

Emerson looked at her, hesitated for a moment, thought about running, then took a deep breath and said, "I'm looking for Commander Steven McGarrett."

"You got an appointment with Steve?"

"No, I'm an…" Emerson hesitated again, wondering if she wasn't perhaps the stupidest woman in the world, licked her lips and went for it, "Old friend."

"Steve's not here," Mia informed her, then looked at the newcomer closely and offered, "But I can call him."

"No," Emerson replied quickly, relieved beyond belief that Steve was somewhere else. There it was, the Gods telling her that this was not meant to be. She was going to go with that. Big time. "I'll just…" she stopped and looked around, deciding to get the hell out of Dodge. "Forget it. Could you please just tell him Emerson Kennedy was here? I'll try to catch him later."

Emerson was rethinking telling this woman her name (_too late now_) when she smiled huge like she had just thought of some hilarious joke but wasn't going to let anyone in on it as she said, "No problem to give him a ring," Mia pushed, "I got him on speed dial."

Oh crap.

"No!" Emerson cried, suddenly sounding desperate, because suddenly she was desperate. She shouldn't have come there. She could get the goods on Lucy's stupid cheating jerk of a husband herself. It couldn't be that hard. She didn't need Steve. She didn't need anyone. Emerson started edging away, deciding on escape, as she finished, "Really, thanks, but I'll just go, I've got to be somewhere anyway."

"Just hang on one tick," Mia insisted, ever helpful, getting up and waving her hands to dry her nails. "I'll just talk to the team. Maybe they know where he is."

Eek! The team?

Another glass door opened on the other side of the reception area, a man walked in, and after one glance at him Emerson stared. At first she was worried it was going to be Steve, but it wasn't. This guy was tall, dark-haired with jade-green eyes, a lean, muscled body and he was unbelievably gorgeous. Not your average, Hawaii gorgeous but really gorgeous.

"Steve just called in," he told Mia, which caused her to sit back down behind the desk, "He'll be here in five."

Emerson had a silent freak out and noticed too late that Hot Hawaiian Guy was standing between her and the exit. Crap.

"Hi, um…?"

"Chin," he said and Emerson blinked as he continued, "Detective Chin Ho Kelly."

"Well, Detective Chin Ho Kelly, I need to go," she told him. He shook his head and Emerson stared at him, thinking maybe he didn't hear her right. "I need to go," she repeated.

"Steve'll be here in five," was all he said. He stood with his arms crossed on his chest and Emerson got the (_correct_) impression that for some reason he wasn't going to allow her to leave. The nervous brunette found this somewhat alarming. Emerson gave up on him because he didn't look like he was easily swayed and turned back to the receptionist.

"Um, really, I've got to go. I just remembered a dentist appointment. They get kind of touchy when you miss your appointments." This made Mia laugh, so Emerson added, "No, really. Sometimes they charge you." When Mia frowned at her, Emerson turned and started toward Chin. They couldn't actually keep her there. She was pretty certain that was against the law and these guys were supposed to uphold the law. Taking a step closer, she announced again, "I'm leaving."

"Steve wants you here," he told her as she took two steps toward him, which meant she was a foot away from him and about ten away from the door.

Emerson tipped her head back and looked at him, surprised at what he said. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"He knows."

"He doesn't."

"I told him."

"How'd you know?" Emerson asked, her eyes wide.

Chin grinned and pointed. She followed his arm to see a camera in the corner of the room. The light on it was green. The team had been watching.

Before Emerson had time to process this information, the outer door opened and Steve was suddenly standing there. She noticed instantly he looked even better than ever. Tall, at least four inches taller than her, lean and built, wearing a skintight blue t-shirt, tan cargo pants and black boots. His thick hair was clipped short to his head, but not buzz cut short so that it was still long enough to showcase his trademark waves.

His eyes landed on Emerson, slid to Chin, then over to Mia. Then one side of his mouth went up in a half-smirk as he asked, "Too late?"

"Not quite," Chin told him and he sounded like he was trying hard not to laugh.

This exchange confused Emerson, but she had no time to ask or say anything at all. Steve's eyes scanned the room with intense precision. Obviously looking for something then not finding it, his gaze sliced back to the receptionist as he asked, "Where's Emmy?"

"What do you mean, where's Emmy? Boy, you looked right at her," Mia answered with a grin as she gestured in Emerson's direction.

Steve's eyes cut to the pretty brunette and pinned her to the spot. She went still and he stared even harder, his eyes narrowing.

"Hey Steve," she said, feeling and sounding stupid.

His brows came together. "Emmy?" he asked. "Emmy Rose Leigh?"

Emerson's heart lurched as she heard him call her by his childhood nickname for her. No one else in the world was allowed to call her Emmy Rose Leigh and no one had ever dared. Pulling herself together, she tried for a jaunty smile and answered, "In the flesh."

Steve did a slow, full body scan and then his eyes came back to hers as he asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

There was definitely a sort of pissed-off accusation in his tone. Not exactly the reaction she had dreamed of when she pictured Steve's first glimpse of the new Emerson.

"I got contacts," she told him and he glared at her, so she added, "And I dyed my hair." The glare turned scary, so she continued, "And I lost seventy-five pounds."

For some reason, Detective Kelly burst out laughing at that and Emerson could hear other laughter in the room as they'd been joined by more people that she couldn't see. The rest of the team, apparently. But she just kept her eyes on Steve who looked, for some insane reason, about to blow. His jaw clenched and his gaze hardened as he asked, "What're you doing here?"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Emerson decided that she didn't need a tough guy. She was going to go it alone so she lied, "I thought you might want to get a beer."

"I called you," he said, changing the subject suddenly, seemingly oblivious to their audience.

Crap.

She was worried about this. He had called about half a dozen times after his father's funeral. Two she missed because she was out. Four she had listened to, sitting there while he was leaving the messages and didn't answer. None of them did she return.

"I know," she whispered softly.

"After my father died, I called you," he stated again, and the laughter swept out of the room just as quickly as it came in.

"I know," she repeated, getting ready for the storm that was about to be unleashed.

"You didn't call back and now, four years later, you wanna have a beer?" His tone was even more frightening than before. Emerson wouldn't have thought it was possible, but there it was.

"Um… maybe not," she muttered, deciding that perhaps she should go home, go to bed, get up again and try the day differently, next time making smart decisions about her actions (_read: not going to Five-O Headquarters_).

"What're you doing here?" Steve asked again.

"I told you…"

"You lied," he interrupted, crossing his arms over his solid chest.

Emerson's mouth dropped open. She had lied of course, but how could he know that? And anyway, he was accusing her of lying in front of other people. She felt her temper flare.

"I did not," she snapped (_and lied again_).

"Bullshit."

"Don't you say 'bullshit' to me, Steven McGarrett."

"Don't lie to me, Emerson Kennedy. What're you doing here?"

He wasn't going to let it go so she sputtered, "I was going to ask you out for a beer. Then I remembered I have a dentist appointment and now I'm late so I'm just going to…"

She was preparing for escape so she took two steps toward the door, mid-rant, and Steve moved. But not to get out of her way. One second he was several feet away from her and the next he was right up in her space. She would have done something _(though she didn't know what that something was_) to get away, but he moved into her. She had no choice but to move back and she backed right up against the wall. Steve came up close, the heat from his body hitting her, his face in hers and she stilled. He was so tall and broad she couldn't see anything but him. He was so pissed-off and full of attitude she was captivated by him and wouldn't have been able to look or move away if she tried.

"What're you doing here?" he repeated, dark blue eyes shining dangerously. Emerson ignored the danger, mainly because at this point she was seriously angry.

"Back off!" she snapped.

"I'm only gonna ask one more time," Steve warned. She put her hands in the spare space between them, right on his rock-solid chest and gave a mighty shove. Then her eyes widened and dropped to her sides. She was pretty certain she had given a good old shove, but he didn't move, not an inch.

Okay then, new tactic. She looked around the room for someone to help her but quickly realized they were alone in the reception area. Chin, Mia and the team had quietly disappeared while Steve was backing her into the wall.

"What's going on?" he asked again for what he had promised would be the last time.

"Step back, Steven."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Step back!" she shouted. But he didn't step back. Instead, he got closer. So much closer, his body touched hers and one of his hands went to the wall beside her head, the other by her hip. She was totally trapped.

"Talk to me, Emmy," Steve ordered. His voice had dipped low. He didn't sound pissed-off now. He sounded patient and a lot like Steve had always sounded whenever he talked to her. Gentle. Affectionate.

She should have responded to his tone, but he was so close. Her head tilted back to look at him and her eyes caught on his mouth. He had a nice mouth, but Emerson never had the opportunity to stare at it in that kind of proximity. The top lip was nicely formed, the bottom one full. The balance was perfect and there were these sexy ridges that made you want to explore. She found herself wondering if that mouth was soft or hard when he used it to kiss you. Then she found herself wondering what it tasted like. Then she found herself thinking she wanted to run her tongue along it.

"Emmy Rose Leigh."

She watched those lips move as they said her name and her eyes drifted dreamily up to Steve's. She was in kind of a fog, so when her eyes hit his she was no longer thinking clearly, totally lost in the moment, so lost she licked her lips.

"Jesus," he muttered, his voice soft, and now he was staring at her mouth. She watched, fascinated as his face stayed hard but his eyes went warm. Ultra-warm. Warm in a way she had never seen before. He always looked at her with warmth in his eyes and she knew he didn't look at everyone that way, but he always looked at her that way.

But this was different, way different.

His eyes were warm in a way that made her feel warm all over. He wasn't that far away but he started to come even closer. Emerson blinked, and self-preservation in mind, shoved at him again, pulling her head back with a jerk and cracking it against the wall. The moment was broken.

"Step back!" she shouted.

Steve's eyes narrowed as he asked, "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything!" Emerson answered sharply, "I was in the neighborhood, I thought I had time on my hands. Mary told me you worked here so what the hell? Stop by and see an old friend. Then you act all Neanderthal crazy. Jeez. Forget it. I have to go to the dentist. He's gonna be pissed."

She shoved again, but Steve still didn't move.

"You're lying," he answered simply.

"I am not!"

"I **KNOW **you, Emmy and I know when you're lying," He reminded her angrily as his face came closer. The closer she thought it would have come a moment ago when, for one heart-stopping, insane moment, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. This time, though, it came in threateningly as he hissed, "You waltz in here after four years, not looking like yourself, not acting like yourself, acting all jittery and bitchy…something I never would have expected from you. You lie through your teeth then stare at my mouth like you want to stick your tongue down my throat, and when I'm ready to give you that opportunity, you go back to bitchy and lying."

Emerson was staring at him. She couldn't help it. She'd never heard anyone be that brutally honest before in her life. And had she been imagining it or had he told her he was going to give her the opportunity to kiss him? Um… wow.

"I'm not playing this game, Em. Not with you," he warned, snapping her out of her thoughts. Gentle, affectionate Steve totally gone, they were back to dangerously pissed-off Steve. "You got trouble, you tell me right now so I can help you. If I find out another way, you'll..."

Her head jerked as she interrupted, "You'll what?" Shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation, Emerson didn't allow him to answer and bit out, "You won't find out anything. In fact, I can promise you won't see me again."

"I'll see you again," he said in a way that she felt a thrill go up her back. Seriously, it was high time to escape.

"Step back," she demanded.

He glared at her once more and then stepped back. Emerson whirled, threw open the closest door and stomped into the hall. Only it wasn't the hall. It was offices and a bullpen area. And those offices were filled with desks. And sitting at those desks were Chin Ho, Mia, another gorgeous Hawaiian woman, and a hunky blond guy. She had stomped through the wrong set of doors.

Before any of them could say anything to her she was twirled around, his hand at her elbow and she jerked her arm out of Steve's grasp. He was, for some reason, now grinning, face relaxed, one corner of his lips tipped up.

"Wrong way," he informed her and he looked about ready to laugh.

Great.

She was a total dork, making her grand exit and going the wrong way. Emerson threw him a look that should have made him spontaneously combust (_of course, it did not_) and stomped the other way, Steve beside her the whole time. His vibe had morphed from pissed-off to amused and she didn't like it one bit. He opened the door to the reception area and she hightailed it across the room, focused on the outer door.

She opened the outer door and marched out. But before it closed behind her, she heard Steve say, "See you later, my Emmy Rose Leigh."


	3. Chapter 3 - Men Suck

**Author's Note**_** - Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review, favorite, and follow this fic. It means a lot to me. I tried to respond to the reviews that were left for me, but if you posted as a guest I couldn't message you back. So I will try to respond in the Author's Notes if that happens.**_

_**Kiwikaren – I know Steve's behavior is a little confusing. It's about to get a little more intense and will be confusing to Emerson, too. But hopefully I can clear up the confusion as the story goes along. I hope you'll be satisfied with the results! Thanks for the review!**_

_**In this chapter you will learn a little more about Emerson and hopefully get some insight into her and her relationship with Steve. I admit that I messed with the McGarrett family timeline a little and changed some dates and events to suit my purposes. I hope you can forgive me…**_

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**Chapter Three - Men Suck**

_Emerson Kennedy's house in Honolulu, later that afternoon..._

Emerson was standing in the kitchen of her small, bungalow style house and taking her post-Steve episode attitude out on an innocent cucumber. It didn't go at all how she had planned and so she was pounding a big cleaver into the vegetable, chopping it in a cucumber-decimating frenzy, trying to get the confrontation with Steve and everyone in his office out of her head.

Men sucked.

Emerson couldn't think of a man who didn't suck. After her father had left when she was fourteen (_rat-bastard number one in her life_) her Mom took off to Phoenix like a shot. She hated the island and all the familiar reminders of her ex-husband. She then proceeded to marry three more men...each one worse than the last. Emerson had two older sisters, who had both been bombshells from puberty, all thick, dark, shining hair, big boobs, tight asses, flat stomachs, long legs and sultry eyes. Men went wild over her sisters despite the fact that they were silly and superficial. Emerson, meanwhile, had to work hard at bombshell status, and even then didn't quite make it because she was a big dork. It was safe to say she and her sisters, Sophie and Laurel, weren't close.

But Lucy Thatcher Koa was another story.

Lucy and Emerson had been best friends since second grade and were still close. She was the bestest best friend in the world…good at keeping secrets, happy to rip Emerson's shallow and sometimes mean sisters to shreds with her, loyal to the core and always up for an adventure. One problem with Lucy: she had awful taste in men. Though, considering good men were non-existent, all women didn't have much choice. However, Lucy's husband, Maka Koa, was beyond the pale in the awful-men stakes. Maka was a world class a-hole. He was very good-looking (_and knew it_), made his money dubiously (_and didn't hide it_) and treated Lucy like crap (_and never apologized_). He didn't hit her, but he cheated on her openly, walked all over her and talked down to her in a way that made Emerson's teeth go on edge. Before Maka, Lucy was funny and sweet and there was no one in the world who was better to be around.

But after five years of marriage, Maka had forced all that good stuff out of Lucy, making her quiet, shy, uncertain and a homebody, and the poor girl didn't even notice it was happening. Emerson noticed, though, and it pissed her off. Lucy loved him and put up with it and it wasn't Emerson's place to say anything. Her only other choice was to stop spending time with her friend, and a life without Lucy… well, Emerson couldn't imagine it. But when Emerson had changed…lost weight, dyed her hair…Maka had noticed. He started to flirt with Emerson right in front of Lucy. She couldn't believe it and did her absolute best not to rip his face off with her fingernails. Lucy ignored the flirting. So did Emerson, passing it off as a joke. Maka took this as a challenge. He was the kind of guy girls responded to so when Emerson didn't respond, he flirted more. He started touching, and just two weeks prior he had backed her into the corner of the kitchen and kissed her, open-mouthed.

Emerson bit his tongue.

He was pissed. His face had immediately changed from angry to calculating. She didn't know what he did for a living, but she didn't think it was good, and Lucy never talked about it, which was concerning since she and Lucy talked about everything. He struck her as a bad guy, not only because he was a cheat and a jerk, but also for other reasons. When he tried to kiss her again, Emerson struggled and pushed and then saw Lucy standing in the doorway. Maka groveled, Emerson shouted, and Lucy simply asked her friend to help her pack. Then she walked out of the room.

Halle-freaking-lujah.

Emerson shoved Maka's shoulder as she walked past him and glared, but he just kept staring at her with an intensity that she did not like and repeated, "Emmy, I always get what I want." Emerson rolled her eyes and left the room. She helped Lucy pack and she moved her best friend into her bungalow for a few days. Lucy cried a lot and Emerson listened a lot, but she quietly seethed a lot more. Then Lucy went to her Mom's place in Wyoming. But not until after they had hatched a plan. Lucy was going to move away and Emerson was going to get the goods on Maka so her friend could divorce him and take him to the cleaners.

That was the plan.

But Emerson wasn't sure how to get the goods on Maka. That was where Steve McGarrett was supposed to come into the scenario.

Lucy knew Steve, had met him several times and had stood beside Emerson at her bedroom window checking him out on numerous occasions while he lifted weights in his garage. She also knew how her friend felt about him (_read: big, huge, twenty year crush_). So dragging Steve into the deal was her idea. Lucy also knew about the funeral and what happened there.

In fact, Lucy knew everything about Steve.

She knew that when Emerson was nine and was walking home from school, three mean boys had caught up with her, calling her Fatty Fatty Four Eyes (_not original, but it hurt, anyway_). She knew how Steve, thirteen and already a tough customer, came out of nowhere and punched one of them in the nose, bloodying it and making all three run away. She knew after it was over Emerson had made some smart comment that had made Steve laugh...because when you are teased all the time for being fat and ugly, one only had two choices: go silent and shy, or become a smartass. Emmy Rose Leigh chose the latter. After she made him laugh, he'd walked her home. No kids ever teased Emerson Kennedy ever again.

Lucy also knew about the time when Steve was fourteen and Emerson was ten. He'd had one of many humdinger fights with his dad and they had heard it all the way across the street. He'd torn out of the house and Emerson had gone after him. She found him in a park, ass to the ground, back against a tree, his head bent, wrists resting on his cocked knees. She sat beside him and started telling jokes until he came out of his mood and started laughing.

Lucy was there when Emerson was twelve and Steve was sixteen and the McGarrett's had come over for dinner. Emerson's mother, an aging beauty queen who still had two shelves full of trophies and ribbons from "the good old days", got tipsy and announced to the table, "I'm so lucky. I have two beautiful daughters and one smart one." Sophie and Laurel grinned at each other, her father got red in the face and looked like he was going to hit the roof, Mr. McGarrett looked down at his plate uncomfortably, and Mrs. McGarrett had stared at Emerson with concern. Steve, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, looked at Sophie and said, "Congratulations, you must have made the honor roll." Sophie's mouth dropped open in horror and Emerson immediately stopped squirming and laughed so hard at her sister's horrified expression, she snorted.

Lucy also knew about the time when Emerson was fourteen and Steve was eighteen, and it had become clear Mr. Kennedy had left and wasn't coming back. Emerson was sitting on her front stoop and could hear her mother crying and carrying on inside while her sisters argued with each other over a curling iron or something idiotic. She saw Steve come out of his house on his way to his motorcycle and when he saw her, changed directions, crossed the street and sat down beside her. He didn't say a word and neither did Emerson. She just stared at his boots and wished he was her boyfriend, not for the first or the last time. Steve slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. Emerson put her head on his shoulder and they sat there a long time before Steve bumped his foot against hers. She got the hint and pulled back. He got up, leaned down, touched her nose and then he was gone.

A few days later, like her dad, Steve really was gone. Mrs. McGarrett was killed in a car accident with a drunk driver and so Mr. McGarrett sent Steve and Mary to the mainland while he coped with his wife's death. He was gone. And he didn't come back for almost sixteen years.

Lastly, Lucy knew about Steve's father's funeral. After the funeral, still at the graveside, the Kennedy sisters walked up to Steve and Mary to offer their sympathy . Hugs and cheek kisses were passed around, both Laurel and Sophie going for the gusto with Steve, but his body went stiff when they pressed against him. It was embarrassing for Emerson, having to watch it and knowing they were her sisters. As gorgeous as they were, Steve was totally aloof from the Kennedy sisters. That was, until his eyes moved to Emerson and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. His arms came around her and he pulled her into a close hug, pressing his jaw against her temple. "Good to see you, Emmy Rose Leigh," he had murmured, and it sounded like he meant it. They exchanged a few pleasantries before Emerson, trying to keep the tone light but wanting to help ease his pain all the same, asked him if he wanted to get out of there and go get drunk. His eyes were warm, his face was hard, and he was so handsome it took her breath away. Steve shook his head but told her he would call her and take her up on that offer sometime soon. She promised to keep their date before he let her go and touched her nose. The Kennedy sisters then moved away and more mourners moved into their space to offer condolences. Emerson walked away slowly, wanting to be in his presence for as long as she could drag it out. Later she overheard her sisters talking in the living room about how embarrassing it was to see all of Emerson's fat pressed up against Steve and how he could barely get his arms around her. Then they'd laughed, thinking they were hilarious.

Hearing what they said, that was it. The final straw. That was when Emerson made her decision, her vow, that the next time she saw Steve McGarrett, and if he hugged her or touched her, no one who was looking at them would think it was sick, gross or embarrassing. That was why she didn't take his calls and go out and get drunk with him like she promised. Instead, she went and found a personal trainer and was put on a program, dumped all the crappy food out of her house and started reading Self and Shape magazines religiously. Emerson was dedicated and motivated and living, cycling, treadmilling, stair climbing, ab curling and weight training for the day when Steve saw her again.

Though it didn't turn out like she'd planned.

Mainly because, even with partial bombshell status, Emerson Kennedy became a jerk magnet. She started to get some serious male attention as the weight dropped off. Since Steve's father's funeral, she'd had her first three longish-term boyfriends. And they all turned out to be jerks. There was Rick, who cheated on her…twice that she knew of. Then there was Dave, who had a collection of pornography so big he could have opened his own store. And he called phone sex lines, like, a lot. Neither of these were bad things, as such. Except phone bills over five hundred dollars month after month were a bit much. Not to mention he wanted to have sex, like, twelve times a day, walked around naked at all times and tried to get Emerson to go to swinger parties. Then there was Noah, who took her Aunt Ella's jewelry and pawned it. This, she didn't find out until he also took her ATM card, found out her PIN number and cleaned out her checking and savings accounts before he disappeared.

See? All men sucked and they weren't worth the effort. Emerson was never going to get tangled up with a man again, no matter who, no matter what.

Shaking herself back to the present, Emerson stopped cleaving at the cucumber, tossed it into a bowl with the arugula she'd already nearly annihilated, and had started on the onion when the phone rang. She threw down the cleaver and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello yourself," Lucy said through the receiver, "How'd it go with Steve?"

Emerson could hear the anticipation in her friend's voice. She thought he'd fall in love with her on sight and put a ring on her finger within the hour. Lucy loved her best friend and thought she was funny and cool. So what could she say? It sucked to disappoint her but Emerson had to admit, "Not good. I didn't ask him. I'm going it alone."

Silence for a beat and then, "What do you mean, not good?"

"I mean not good." Emerson decided maybe she shouldn't tell Lucy right now about how it actually went. Her friend had enough on her plate and anyway, she wasn't ready to relive it so she said, "I think he's kinda pissed that I didn't return his calls after his father's funeral."

"You should have called him," Lucy scolded as she had at least five dozen times before.

"Too late now," Emerson responded flippantly, "Anyway, we go ahead with the plan as it was, just without Steve. I'll go to your house tonight."

Lucy hesitated before she said slowly, "I'd be a lot more comfortable if you had Steve with you."

"That isn't gonna happen."

"Okay, then maybe you can call your personal trainer guy…Ricky? Is that his name? I think he has a bit of a crush on you, now that you're hot. Maybe he'll go with you."

The idea of Ricky, who'd done a body fat test on Emerson seventy-five pounds ago (_and one just three weeks ago and about seventeen in between_) having a crush on her made the brunette laugh. When she finally caught her breath, she stated, "Ricky does not have a crush on me."

"Ricky thinks you're fine…"

"Ricky has a girlfriend with bleached teeth, satiny black hair, and a surfer's body," Emerson reminded her, hoping to put an end to this part of the conversation.

"He broke up with her ages ago," Lucy remembered and Emerson cursed her friend's good memory, "Anyway, you make Ricky laugh, even when he's holding your feet and you're doing ab curls."

"There's nothing to laugh about when you're doing ab curls."

This was true. Emerson hated ab curls. She hated exercise and wasn't that hot on cucumber, arugula, onion and bulgur wheat tabouleh. She'd rather have a huge burrito with spiced meat, cheese, sour cream and guacamole and a humungous chocolate chip cookie, but hadn't worked her ass off (_literally_) to go back now.

"Tell me about Steve," Lucy changed the subject, knowing, after all those years of being her best friend, that Emerson was holding out on her.

"Later."

"Now."

"Later, Lucy. It…" she stopped, then started again, "wasn't good."

"Was it bad?"

"No, it was just… weird."

Weird really wasn't the word for it, but she was going to go with that for now.

"Well," Lucy began, giving in, and her voice had gone soft, "then don't worry about Maka. I'll come home in a few days, we'll do it together."

"No!" Emerson replied, kind of loud. She didn't want her to come back. She didn't want Maka to talk her into taking him back. She wanted her clear of him. She wanted Lucy to come back to herself and for Maka to be out of her life forever. "I'll take care of it."

"I don't…"

"Luce, I'll take care of it."

"I don't like it," she said worriedly, "Maka's not really a guy you mess with."

"I won't get caught."

"Crap," Lucy muttered, her second thoughts clear in her voice.

"I'll be all right. I'll go tonight, search the house. It's his poker night, right?"

"Yeah."

But Emerson could tell Lucy still didn't like it as she warned, "Be careful, Emerson."


	4. Chapter 4 - Little Bit of Trouble

**Chapter Four – Little Bit of Trouble**

_An hour later…_

Emerson checked the mirror one last time before she was about to head out for the evening's festivities. She'd put on dark jeans, a fitted black tank top, black flip-flops and, of course, her silver. She should probably have left her silver jewelry out of the equation since it was glittery and would catch the light, but she didn't go anywhere without her silver. And anyway, she'd been to Maka and Lucy's a gazillion times. All of their neighbors knew her and wouldn't blink an eye that she was there. Furthermore, she had a key (_well, not really, but she knew where they hid the spare_).

Night had fallen and Lucy told her that Maka's return from the poker game was up in the air. If he was doing well, he stayed out late. If he was losing, he cut it short, came home and likely took his bad luck out on Lucy by saying things to her that made her feel like dirt. Emerson went to her Jeep Cherokee, backed it out, hit the button for the garage door to close and headed to Lucy and Maka's house. They had a beautiful beach house out in Kailua. Lucy loved it and Emerson liked it, too. She hoped her friend got it in the divorce settlement. Slowing down when she turned onto their street, Emerson did a drive-by, checking for lights and to see if Maka's BMW was parked in their driveway. It wasn't, so she parked around the corner, hoofed it up to the house, went around the side to the back and found Lucy's key in the fake rock by their outdoor Jacuzzi. She opened it with the combination, put the rock back where she found it, went to the door and let herself in. She didn't bother with gloves. Her prints were likely all over the house anyway. She also didn't turn on the light because she knew the house like the back of her own hand. She'd partied in it, had Christmas dinner in it, had crashed there on many occasions (_normally drunk_) and even helped Lucy clean it a number of times.

The only hitch in Emerson's plan was that she didn't know what she was looking for. Shirts with lipstick on the collar? Love letters? She had the bad feeling that she was going to have to follow Maka with a camera and take pictures of him while he was doing the nasty with some bimbo. She didn't relish that idea so she hoped Maka was a love letter keeping type of guy.

Emerson turned on the flashlight on her phone and decided to start in the bedroom. She'd seen enough movies and television to do a decent search. She started at his nightstand and found an industrial-sized box of condoms he had to have bought at some warehouse retail store. She didn't even know they made boxes of condoms that big. Emerson made note of this, knowing that Lucy was on the pill, therefore Maka didn't need condoms. She checked the bottom and insides of the drawer, the back and bottom of the nightstand, but nothing going.

Emerson was moving to the closet, intent on her task, when suddenly a steel-band-like arm wrapped around her waist, a hand went over her mouth and she was lifted clean off her feet. Freaked out, legs pumping and screaming under the hand, the brunette was carried out of the bedroom and into the living room like she weighed as much as a ragdoll. Emerson planted a well-aimed, savage elbow to the side of who she suspected was Maka, someone she did not want to catch her snooping and someone she also did not want to be alone with. Ever.

She heard a grunt when her elbow connected and she was dropped. Heart pumping and mind flying, Emerson started to run but was caught by the back of her tank top. It went way tight against her chest and she was yanked back, again off her feet. Her shoulders slammed against something hard right before she was whirled around. The arm went around her tight, pulling her against a solid torso just as the hand went back over her mouth.

"Quiet," Steve McGarrett clipped.

Ho-ly crap.

Emerson went still and stared, though she couldn't see much of anything. What in the hell was he doing there?

"You gonna stay quiet?" Steve asked.

Emerson nodded and his hand went away.

"What are you doing here?" Emerson whispered, not knowing what to think, or feel. Just shocked out of her mind. Was he following her? And, if so, why?

"Could ask you the same thing," he said, cutting into her thoughts.

"I'm visiting a friend," she lied quickly.

His body tensed and she felt something fill the room, something crackling and dangerous. Emerson couldn't see it in the dark, but she could feel it. She could feel it because his arm got tight and it hauled her even deeper into his body so they were pressed close.

"Stop lying to me, Emerson."

He hadn't called her Emmy Rose Leigh. Or even Emmy. That meant he was not happy. So not happy that she had to admit she was a little scared of him.

"I'm not lying," she lied, wincing at her own stupidity.

"You're telling me that Maka Koa is a friend of yours?"

"No, Lucy Koa is."

He knew Lucy. He'd met her way back in the day. This was likely why his arm relaxed enough for Emerson to pull away and put a foot of space between them, which was a far more comfortable position.

"Lucy isn't here," Steve hissed in the dark.

"Well, I know that now," she snapped back, like she'd expected her to be there. In other words, she lied, again.

"You often go to your friends' houses when they're not home and search around in the dark?"

Emerson had to think up another lie because it wasn't any of his business what she was doing there. Of course, it would have been his business if he hadn't trapped her against the wall in his offices that afternoon, but it wasn't his business anymore. He reached forward and grabbed her hand, tugging her back into the bedroom.

"Steve, stop. What are you doing?"

He bent down, nabbed her still-lit phone from the floor where she'd dropped it and snapped it off before telling her, "We're gettin' out of here."

He pulled her out of the bedroom and back into the living room. But Emerson planted her feet when he started to yank her across the room. He stopped and looked back.

"No. You're getting out of here," she flashed at him. "I'm, um… looking for the earring I left here the other night."

That sounded like a good lie. But Steve obviously didn't think it was a good lie. He gave her hand a sharp tug. She fell forward and without a word he started walking, dragging her behind him. Emerson yanked her hand out of his, stopped again and cried, "Steve!"

That was when the room exploded.

One second, they were standing there, Emerson glaring at him in the dark, Steve holding his body tense like he was stopping himself from shaking some sense into her. The next minute there was so much noise and flying debris, every thought flew out of her head.

Steve moved quickly. He threw himself at the petite brunette in a body tackle and they went down to the floor. He landed on top of her, body slamming into hers, and immediately pulled himself up. He wrapped his arms around her head and leaned his shoulder into the floor, her face pressed into his throat, his head tucked in, temple against the top of her forehead. Glass, dust, plaster and bits of Lucy's adored pottery collection flew everywhere as machine gunfire blasted through the huge living room window.

Emerson lay under Steve, pretty certain she was going to die and wishing she'd made a will. Now her sisters and mother were going to get all of Aunt Ella's inheritance money that Noah hadn't stolen from her because she had it in a secret account. She should have left it to Lucy. And an animal shelter.

The noise finally stopped, and even though it felt like it had gone on forever, it was probably less than a minute. Steve didn't move, just kept her tucked tight underneath him, and it dawned on Emerson that their position meant he was using himself as a shield to keep her safe.

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. That was too much. It was all too much.

"Steve," she whispered and his head came up. Emerson was quiet because she could tell he was listening, and not to her. Then his head tilted down and she could feel his eyes on her. She lifted her hand up between their faces, index finger and thumb held an inch apart and said, "Maybe I'm in a little bit of trouble."

It was only then he made a noise and it sounded an awful lot like a growl.


	5. Chapter 5 - That's Who He's Keeping Safe

**Author's Note**_** - When I outlined this fic out, I had no idea that this was going to be one of my favorite chapters to date. I have some favorite "Steve moments" coming up but I love the interactions between Steve and Emerson in this chapter. I have been re-watching the Season One episodes on TNT recently and I based this fic's Steve on the undisciplined hothead he was at the beginning of the series. I feel he's become more "mellow" as the series progressed and stayed more within the law, but I wanted the "hang a guy off a building" Steve for this fic. The one who would be willing to do ANYTHING to protect the people he cares about...that's the guy I needed for this fic. But don't worry...the gentle guy Emerson fell for as an awkward kid is still in there and he will be making an appearance soon!**_

_**The title of this chapter is important because it came from my first favorite "Steve moment" toward the end of this chapter. This one is a long one and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you...**_

* * *

**Chapter Five - ****That's Who He's Keeping Safe**

_The Koa's beach house in Kailua, a moment later…_

"Steve?"

"Quiet."

Steve knifed off of Emerson, yanked her to her feet and wasted no time pulling her through the room, through the kitchen and out the backdoor. She didn't resist. She didn't want to be anywhere near a room that exploded with gunfire. The petite brunette was more than happy to be moving away from it, swiftly, hand in hand with a tough guy, Navy SEAL, law enforcement type person who clearly knew what the hell he was doing.

Steve jogged through the yard then broke into a sprint down the street, his hand in hers, dragging his old friend behind him. It wasn't easy sprinting in flip-flops. Emerson was going to have to rethink her footwear on her next nail-Maka-to-the-wall assignment. She saw lights go on in houses and heard police sirens, but Steve just kept going. It took her a moment, considering the fact that she was freaking out and perhaps fleeing for her life (_on flip-flops no less_), to realize that he was moving in the wrong direction. Emerson pulled at his hand.

"My car's the other way," she whispered loudly to his back. He kept going, dragging her with him and seemingly ignoring her so she hissed, "Steve!"

He didn't stop, just kept dragging her. They shot down the street, stopped next to a shiny black truck and he bleeped the locks. Then he opened the passenger side door and ordered her to get in.

"What?" Emerson asked, confused, freaked, and winded from the flip-flop getaway. She wanted maybe to take a second to do a cartwheel of joy that she was still alive and not full of holes.

"Get in the damn truck," Steve clipped and she guessed he wasn't into cartwheels of joy.

"My car is…" she started to tell him, but stopped talking when he literally picked her up from the sidewalk and pressed her into the truck. He did it so forcefully her body had no choice but to comply. Emerson's legs buckled and her rear, of its own accord, aimed for the seat. He slammed the door the minute her feet cleared the frame and he was in the driver's side before she finished blinking away her surprise.

Emerson turned on him and said, "I want you to take me to my car. My purse is in my car and I need my purse."

But Steve simply started the truck. Not thinking clearly, his passenger turned to the door, her hand on the handle, deciding she would run to her own car. What happened next shocked the breath right out of her…

Steve grabbed her wrist, pulled her away from the door, leaned forward and yanked a set of handcuffs out of the glove compartment, not letting Emerson go the whole time. He snapped a bracelet on her left wrist and the other on his right. As she was staring at their wrists bound together, he put the truck in gear, her arm moving with his, and they rocketed from the curb.

It took a few seconds, but then she managed to stammer, "You just… you just… handcuffed me to you!"

"That's right."

"You just handcuffed me to you," she repeated inanely. He didn't answer. "Why did you handcuff me to you?" He remained silent. "Steve!"

"I know you, Emmy." Still staring at the road, he added, "Now be quiet."

And that was when she lost it. She had an excuse. She had just had a near-death experience.

"You're nuts! You're crazy! You're following me. You handcuffed me. We just got shot at! I can't believe this is happening! Take me to my car!"

Steve pulled over and the truck moved sleekly under his command, but this was still sudden enough for her to snap her mouth shut. When he had the car idling he turned to Emerson. His left hand shot out, wrapping around her neck and pulling her toward him. Their faces an inch apart, he ordered, "Settle down, Emmy."

"I will not settle down!" she screamed in his face. "I will freak the hell out if I want to and you can't stop me! We were just shot at! I think we just ran away from a crime scene. You're a cop…you're not supposed to leave the scene of a crime! And, I repeat, you just handcuffed me to you!"

"You got the choice to be quiet on your own or I'll make you be quiet."

"Yeah? How are you gonna do that?" Emerson challenged, her eyes widening in a combination of adrenaline and fear as she continued freaking out. "Are you going to gag me? Or use some super secret SEAL move to knock me out?"

"Actually, I had something else in mind."

"I will not be quiet!" she shouted, ignoring his words, totally in Freak Out La-la Land. "I need tequila. I need cookies. I need my car. I need to call Lucy."

She was rambling and she knew it, but she had been in a room that exploded.

"Quiet," he repeated, his voice holding a low warning.

Emerson ignored the warning and screeched, "Seriously, take me to my car!"

"Why am I always repeating myself with you?" he asked, sounding slightly impatient.

"Maybe because I don't snap to when you tell me to do something like one of your little Navy soldiers or those stupid women you like to go out with," she retorted, sounding bitchy as all hell.

It was after that comment when Steve jerked her forward with his hand at her neck. His head slanted and his lips crashed down on hers. For your information, those lips were hard when they kissed you.

Ho-ly crap!

Emerson was stunned still as his mouth moved over hers. Then he let her go as quickly as he had kissed her, turned back to the wheel and moved the truck into traffic. Emerson decided her best course of action at that moment was to stay silent. It was a good thing to do. It gave her the time to bury Steve's hard, angry kiss right down deep next to him shielding her from gunfire with his body and them getting shot at.

She'd wanted Steve to kiss her for ages, but not like that. Emerson didn't even know you could kiss someone like that. Her silence and their drive also gave her time to mentally rehearse the conversation with Lucy about this incident: _Um, Luce, you know that "Day of the Dead" pottery collection by Stephen Kilborn you've been painstakingly collecting for years…?_

They were on the Kalani'ana'ole Highway when Steve's right hand moved to flip down his sun visor, taking her left one with it, pulling her out of her unhappy thoughts. The car slowed and he hit a button affixed to his visor then he flipped it back up, his (_and her_) hand moving to the stick as he downshifted.

"Where are we going?" she broke the silence.

He turned into a hidden driveway and pulled into a dark garage before he answered, "You're staying at my place while I find out what is going on."

He parked, pulled up the brake and turned off the car while Emerson processed the new information, coming to the conclusion that she did not want to stay at Steve's place while he found out what was going on. She didn't want to be at Steve's place at all. Before she could protest (_not that it would matter_), he got out his side, which meant, considering she was attached to him, she had to scramble over the seat and follow him.

"Steve, I really need to get my car because my purse is in my car," Emerson repeated while he closed the door behind her and bleeped the locks. She used a calmer, more rational voice, hoping to impress him with her cool attitude and get him to do what she wanted.

"One of the boys will bring it here," he said, punching in a code to disarm the security system and opening the garage door to the main house.

"What boys?"

"HPD."

Oh. Well then. Her car was taken care of.

By the cops.

The cops who were investigating the crime scene they had just run away from.

So naturally Emerson couldn't stop herself from snarking, "HPD is in the habit of returning cars to people who run away from crime scenes?"

"They are if I ask them to," he answered, probably unaware of how arrogant he sounded.

"We left a crime scene," she pressed, "People who do that on TV get thrown in jail. Cops who do that lose their jobs..."

"We are not on TV," Steve answered, "and that wasn't a Five-0 crime scene so I didn't have to stay."

That, of course, explained nothing to her. She watched as he reset the alarm code for the house...which meant if she opened a door to escape, he would know. Damn it. So Emerson carried on to the next important subject and informed him, "I should go home. I'm supposed to call Lucy."

He turned to face her, eyes assessing as he asked quietly, "You know where Lucy is?"

Oops. She'd just outed herself on the "just visiting Lucy at her house" lie.

"Um… " she muttered, wondering how to backtrack on what she had given away.

"Jesus Christ. You two are in on this together," he said, yanking her through the kitchen. They were still cuffed together, but he was now holding her hand.

"There's nothing to be in on together." Oh man, there it was, lying again. Emerson was going straight to hell.

"You two were always in on something together," Steve returned.

"We were not," she lied (_again_!).

Steve looked at her and Emerson found it hard to return his angry stare as he asked, "What about the time you two lit off bottle rockets in the middle of the night in Old Man Humphries's backyard? He nearly had a stroke."

Emerson made a sound like "humph" and returned, "He deserved it. He shot Lucy's dog… for trespassing! How can a dog trespass?"

Steve didn't answer but moved them over to the refrigerator and opened it as he went on, "And the time you sold a bag of oregano to Mitch and Josh Burke, telling them it was pot?"

"We needed money. There was a Kiss tribute show coming to the Island. They never figured it out, said it was the best weed they'd ever had."

"And the time you filled Megan Carmichael's car with popcorn?"

"She was a bitch. She stole Lucy's boyfriend."

Steve shook his head as if she was the crazy person in this scenario, not him, Mr. Handcuff Man. He took out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and handed it to her. As she took a much needed drink, they moved into the living room and Steve flipped a switch so that soft lamps lit the space. She looked around at the comfortable surroundings and asked, "This is your house?"

"It was my dad's," he bit out, "He bought it after my mom's accident."

Emerson didn't reply as he moved them through the living room and started to head up the stairs. Immediately on alert, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"Up," was his only response as he nudged her ahead of him and his body forced her to start moving forward and upward.

Despite the fact that she was already climbing the stairs, Emerson retorted, "I don't want to go up."

But it didn't matter to him. He kept silently moving and prodding her along until they reached the top of the stairs. As they stood outside a door that Emerson alarmingly believed to be his bedroom, she turned to face him in the darkened hallway and said, "Steve, this isn't funny. Unlock me from these things."

"Are you going to run?"

"No."

"Liar," he drawled and opened the door to the master bedroom. It was a large room and in the center was a big bed with a wooden slatted head and footboard and deep-gray sheets and comforter. The other side of the room had a set of weights, a weight bench, a fancy weight machine and an elliptical machine. In the corner next to the weights, there was a small room made of glass blocks that Emerson assumed was the bathroom. It was obviously occupied by a man but aside from the manly décor, there were no signs of it. There weren't any clothes all over the place or magazines and opened mail in disarray on every surface. The bed had been made and pulled so tightly you could bounce a quarter off of it. His military training was evident.

Steve's voice broke her out of her thoughts as he said, "I already told you…I know when you're lying so you might as well cut it out. You're not very good at it."

"I'm not…" she started to lie again and then snapped her mouth closed. There was no sense in saying anything. Not only had he known her for most of her life, he was a trained military man who now sniffed out criminals for a living.

He turned to the bed, walked to it (_pulling Emerson along with him_) and sat on the side as he bent forward and tugged off a boot. This action forced Emerson to sit on the bed also and a flurry of butterflies took flight in her stomach as she realized she was sitting on Steve's bed…with Steve. Although, she could have done without the handcuffs.

"Please take me home," she said quietly, deciding quiet was the way to go. All her other attempts to get her way (_yelling, screaming, shouting and struggling_) didn't work so Emerson was trying out other options.

"No," he said just as quietly, foiling her new tactic and dropping his other boot to the floor.

"I need to take out my contacts," she told him and this was true.

"I think I have some solution and a case in the other bathroom," he explained, standing up and forcing her to come along with him. "Mary left it here but it should still be okay to use."

"You can just take me home. I have contact solution and, like, a million cases there."

"I'm not taking you home, Emerson." He replied as they walked through the upstairs hallway to a small bathroom. He rummaged around in the medicine cabinet, found the contact solution and case, then led her back to his room.

"I don't understand," she protested, "Why? Whoever they were, they weren't shooting at me. No one even knew I was there."

"I know. They were shooting at Koa."

"They were shooting at Maka?" she whispered, unable to wrap her mind around this fact. They sat back down on the bed as he pulled off his socks and Emerson sucked in breath. This was news.

"He isn't a well-liked guy."

Well that didn't surprise her. Maka was a jerk. But shooting out his living room with an Uzi? That seemed a bit much, and this was coming from a woman who was searching his house to try to find evidence to nail him in an upcoming divorce battle. So she asked, "Why would they shoot out his living room with an Uzi when he wasn't there?"

"It wasn't an Uzi. It was an AK-47. And they were sending a message."

Steve turned toward her and leaned in, working at the cuffs. Emerson sucked in breath again, mainly because Steve's chest was close to her face, and felt her hands freed from the cuffs. She sighed in relief and shook out her hands, flexing and curling her fingers and wrists. Pins and needles shot up them and she took a deep breath to tamp down her temper. It wouldn't serve any purpose. She was learning quickly that Steve didn't like her temper and he was a lot stronger than she was. He seemed to be in a more mellow mood and she wasn't going to piss him off again. Pissing him off wouldn't get her home and she needed to get home...soon. Her purse was in her car, Steve had confiscated her phone and she was pretty certain Lucy had called her cell, probably dozens of times, checking in. She was likely panicked. Emerson needed to phone her and quick. Still, she couldn't stop herself from saying softly as she rubbed at her left wrist, "That hurt."

Steve threw the cuffs on the nightstand, twisted at the waist, grabbed her left wrist and started to massage her arm. Emerson sat completely still, registering how nice, warm and strong Steve's hands were. They felt good.

No, they felt great.

"I needed to make sure you were safe," he finally said, thankfully pulling her away from thoughts of his hands feeling great.

"They didn't shoot out my windows," Emerson pointed out.

"Then I needed to make sure you didn't do something stupid," he retorted, moving his magic hands up her arm to continue the massage.

Hmm. One, two, three, four, five… Emerson got her temper under control.

"Now that you know I'm safe and I can promise you I won't do anything stupid, can I please go home?"

"No."

"Steve!"

His hands went to her armpits and he got up off the bed, taking her with him. She had kicked off her flip-flops and they were lying somewhere near the bed. There was something very weird about being barefoot in Steve's bedroom with Steve also standing barefoot. There was something intimate about it, something sweet and nice and wonderful.

Hell and damnation.

Steve led her across the room to a dresser, opened a drawer and took something out. He then led the way to the bathroom, flipped a switch and gave her a gentle push inside as he commanded, "Take out your contacts, get changed, we're going to bed."

Emerson stood, blinking in the lit room, mouth dropped open and watched the door close. We're going to bed. **WE** are going to bed? She sighed. No reason to fight it because she obviously wasn't going to win. Tomorrow, he would take her home and she would forget all of this ever happened. This was not likely, but she was going with it for the moment.

Steve had brought a new toothbrush from the other bathroom along with the contact stuff, so Emerson took out her contacts, brushed her teeth, washed her hands and face, took off her clothes, and pulled on the t-shirt he had given her. It was seriously cool. Old, faded, soft and black with United States Navy written in silver on the front of it. It was huge on her, coming down over her hips to her upper thighs. It felt good on, nice and snug and she tried (_hard_) not to think of wearing Steve's t-shirt, at the same time trying to figure out how to steal it. She folded her clothes neatly, as if her life depended on it. Without anything else to do to delay, she opened the bathroom door, switched off the light and walked into the bedroom.

Steve, she saw, her heart beginning to beat a little faster in her chest, was lying in bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling seeming peaceful and Zen, as if he spent a lot of time in that position. This was all she really saw, mainly because without her contacts, her vision was blurry. She walked slowly to the gym equipment, semi-feeling her way with her feet, put her clothes on one of the weight benches and then turned to ask, "Can I use your phone? Or get mine back?"

Instead of answering, he took his hands from behind his head, twisted to the nightstand and pulled his phone out of its cradle. She walked to him and took it from his outstretched hand as she warned, "It's long distance."

"Where's Lucy?" he asked.

Emerson rolled her eyes, mainly because she was remembering that you didn't get much by Steve, and that was kind of annoying.

"Wyoming."

"As long as it isn't England."

She nearly smiled at him, but stopped herself just in time. Emerson looked at the phone then realized she had a slight problem. Although she had memorized Lucy's mom's number, she couldn't see the keypad without her contacts. It was a new phone to her, who knew where the buttons were? This was mortifying. She stood there, uncertain and then realized she had no choice. Lucy was probably packing up her suitcase as she hesitated, ready to come back to Hawaii to find out what happened to Emerson. She would find her house cordoned off with police tape instead. Then she would lose it, thinking Maka had killed her best friend, or more likely, Emerson had killed Maka.

Crap.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

She couldn't tell for sure, but Emerson thought he was looking at her as she explained, "I need you to dial the number. I can't see the phone."

She didn't know what she expected him to do. Still, she was surprised that, without hesitation, he sat up and took the phone out of her hand.

"What's the number?" he asked and she told him. He punched it in with his thumb and handed it back to her.

"Thanks," she whispered, listening to it ring.

"Please let this be Emerson," Lucy said as she answered the phone on her end.

"Hey girl," Emerson replied, turning away from Steve, wishing she could run away from Steve, and again wondering what in the hell she was doing.

"I've called a gazillion times!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I… something happened and I got separated from my purse. And my phone." Emerson made it to the window, leaned against the cool glass and stared out at the ocean. It was blurry, but she could still tell from the glow of the moonlight and the sound of the waves lapping on the shore that Steve had a kickass view. A girl could get used to a view like that.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked. "My phone says this number is blocked. Are you home?"

Emerson had to make a split-second decision…lie to her or tell her the truth, when the truth would both freak her out (_her living room getting shot out and Maka, still her husband, being delivered a very scary message_) and make her jump for joy (_that she was standing in Steve's t-shirt in his bedroom). _She decided to hedge.

"Listen, I'm really tired, I'll call you tomorrow and tell you all about it."

"Did you find anything?"

Emerson knew she had to give her something and that something had to be something Steve, who was certainly listening, couldn't get anything out of. So she answered quietly, "Just an industrial-sized box of condoms in his nightstand."

Silence.

"Luce?"

"Guess he isn't pining for me, huh?"

"Lucy," Emerson whispered softly, feeling her pain as only best friends do and wishing she were closer so she could give her a hug.

"Get to sleep, it's late. Tell me about it tomorrow," she said.

"Okay."

"I want to hear about the Steve thing tomorrow too."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Emerson told her with a grin.

"Em?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. You're the bestest best friend a girl could have."

Emerson smiled into the phone. That was worth getting shot at for.

"I love you, Lucy. Everything is going to be ok, I promise."

She heard her friend disconnect and looked at the phone, then realized she didn't know how to turn it off. She didn't have to wonder long. It was pulled out of her hand because Steve, again, silent as a cat, was right beside her. He beeped it off as she stared at him and saw he was wearing nothing but a pair of dark (_probably black_) shorts that rode low on his hips, but were long on his thighs and a gray t-shirt. She swallowed as he walked away and put the phone back on the nightstand. Then he turned and started back to her and she looked from his shorts to his face.

"Good to have you back, Emmy Rose Leigh," he said, his voice soft, gentle, affectionate, and she felt her body jerk in reaction to his tone and his words.

Emerson ignored her body's reaction and looked around the room as she asked, "Do you have a blanket?"

"Why?"

"So I can sleep on your couch."

"You aren't sleeping on the couch." He answered, stepping closer to her.

She looked around, confused, then asked, "Why not?"

"You're sleeping in the bed."

"So you're sleeping on the couch?"

"No."

"Are you sleeping on the floor?" she asked, surprised, but figured it was maybe some Navy SEAL macho guy thing, roughing it on a plank wood floor.

"No."

Uh-oh.

"Where are you sleeping?" she continued her sleeping arrangement interrogation.

Steve's hand shot out, and too late, she saw the blurry glint of steel and heard the clanking right before the bracelet was slapped on her wrist. She pulled back in horror. Her heart was thumping in her chest and her blood was pumping through her veins. He slapped the other bracelet on his own wrist as she shouted, "No!"

She tried to yank her wrist back, but it was like he didn't feel the pull. He just leaned in, shoulder to her belly and picked her up, his free arm around her thighs, his other wrist bound to hers and he started to the bed.

"What are you doing?" Emeron shouted, feet kicking, pushing at his waist with her free hand.

This was too much. Way too much.

"Going to bed," Steve answered calmly.

"Handcuffed to me?"

"Damn straight."

"Steve, I swear to God I'll scream my head off!"

"Do it," he invited, tossing her on the bed and coming down with her, looking totally calm, and Emerson wished she could throw something at him. "The ocean is out back, the highway is out front and there isn't another house for miles. No one's around to hear you."

"I'll report you," she seethed, "They'll take away your badge for pulling a stunt like this…"

He grinned as if she had just said something ridiculously funny and then sobered as he told her simply, "I'm not taking any chances."

"Not taking any chances with what?"

"You taking off in the middle of the night," he replied, settling in on the bed next to her, "getting shot at again, kidnapped, strapped to a bomb, any of it."

She was right, he was nuts.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you in the morning, after you tell me about your little bit of trouble."

"Tell me now."

"Go to sleep, Emmy."

"You set the security alarm so I can't leave without it going off..."

"You watched."

"I didn't memorize your alarm code! I'm a kindergarten teacher, not a secret agent," she screeched in anger and frustration, "Uncuff me!"

"Settle down and go to sleep," he ordered, settling himself on his back.

"Un… cuff… me!"

She pulled hard at the cuff in her anger. Steve jerked it again, harder, and she toppled into him, breasts to chest. His other arm went tight around her waist as he whispered, "Settle."

Emerson glared in the general direction of his face, knowing she would never win, but not about to give in gracefully, and declared, "I hate you."

"You don't."

"I do."

"Okay," Steve replied with a shrug and then held her gaze as he continued, "maybe whoever this new Emerson is hates me, but she's a bitch and I don't care if she hates me. The old Emmy doesn't hate me and she's in there somewhere. I know because I saw her five minutes ago and that's who I'm keeping safe."

That knocked the breath out of her and cut her deep. So deep, to hide how much it hurt, Emerson did as he told her to do and settled into his side, her body mostly on him because her right wrist was cuffed to his left and his arm was thrown out wide to keep her there. Without anywhere else to put it, she rested her head on his shoulder. Still, she held herself tense because she was totally freaked out. When you were fuelled with adrenalin, shot at and were lying handcuffed to a man you had a screaming crush on for most of your life, it was impossible to sleep. So Emerson lay there, trying to relax.

She couldn't relax. So she started talking.

"I won't get shot at again," Emerson muttered into his shoulder.

"I'm not taking any chances."

"I certainly won't get kidnapped. The idea is ridiculous."

He was silent.

"And strapped to a bomb, what on earth?" she mumbled, shaking her head at the absurdity of it.

"Emmy."

"What?"

"Please be quiet and go to sleep."

"Fine," she snapped.

Steve's arm tightened around her waist and his other hand came close to rest on his chest, forcing her hand to rest on his chest, too. She slid off his body, but he held her close to his side. She figured she'd never in a million years, snuggled up next to Steve McGarrett, man of her dreams, wearing his t-shirt, lying in his big bed, and handcuffed to him for God's sake, get to sleep.

It took about five minutes and Emmy Rose Leigh was dead to the world.


	6. Chapter 6 - Time to Talk

**Author's Note**_** - Thanks for the reviews and support everyone! I'm so glad you continue to enjoy this story. I haven't had a chance to reply to any reviews today because I was busy getting this chapter ready. Life around here changes tomorrow because I am going back to work...which means I won't have as much time to write. So I can't promise any more of this "new chapter every day" routine I've been on...but I will do my best! **_

_**I know Steve is not the "wear his heart on his sleeve" kind of guy, but the things that have happened to his friends have to have had some effect on him. He has another "Steve moment" in this chapter when that all comes bubbling up to the surface. Enjoy...**_

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Time to Talk**

_The McGarrett home, the next morning…_

Emerson woke up and blinked quickly at all the sunlight that came streaming into the room. Hawaii was a sunny place but this was ridiculous, she thought as she tried to roll over in her sleep. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open and she blinked as she stared at the wall of hard-muscled chest that was right in front of her, and for a second felt confusion. Then it all came back to her and she tensed. Inventorying the situation, Emerson realized that she was pressed against Steve's side. He was on his back, their cuffed arms on the bed under their bodies, her thigh thrown across both of his, her head on his shoulder, and her free arm resting across his abs.

"Good morning," Steve said from somewhere above her.

Avoiding eye contact, she mumbled something incoherent into his shoulder.

Steve rolled toward her, hand going to her hip, his fingers putting pressure there so she had no choice but to turn into him and suddenly they were face-to-face. Since they were so close and it was light, she could see him pretty well. He looked very awake, very alert and very gorgeous.

"Time to talk," he said.

Emerson was usually a morning person. During the school year, she usually only had to brush her teeth and have a couple sips of coffee to clear out the sleep cobwebs and then she was all morning energy. That was definitely a plus since her job entailed dealing with small children. But while she was on summer break, she had let her routine lapse a little. She wasn't ready to talk, certainly not lying face-to-face in Steve's bed.

"I need to brush my teeth," she told him.

"After we talk."

"No, seriously, I can't face the day without brushing my teeth."

Steve stared at her, probably trying to decide if she was lying or not. Emerson didn't blame him. She had lied to him a lot in the last less-than-twenty-four hours. He must have made his decision because he rolled over her and reached to the nightstand. He opened a drawer and pulled out his keys. He rolled back, lifted their wrists and unlocked her bracelet. The minute she was free, Emerson didn't hesitate and jumped off the bed, hightailing it to the bathroom, totally intent on escape. It was after she used the facilities, splashed water on her face to wash away the sleep, brushed her teeth and put in her contacts that she realized her mistake…she should have brought her clothes in with her.

Hell fire and damnation.

Emerson pulled her hair back away from her face with both hands and stared into her light brown eyes in the mirror. Both of her sisters had sultry, dark brown eyes, which sucked and wasn't fair. Since she couldn't at that moment do anything about the fact that she was barely dressed, she focused on what to do with her hair. Last time she saw Steve, her hair had been shoulder length but she had let it grow out in the years since. It had always had an unruly wave, and length and weight had done nothing to tame it. In fact, it went all the more wild. She needed a ponytail holder because it was now a mess of waves and tangles and currently in an untamable state without shampoo and a mountain of product to force it under control.

She dropped her hands, resigned herself to her fate, and walked out of the bathroom. Emerson was surprised to find the bedroom empty and contemplated how far a drop it would be if she climbed out of the bedroom window. Then remembering the security alarm (_that would most certainly go off the moment she opened a window) _she headed down the stairs just in time to see a man walking through Steve's front door carrying her purse. He was short, blond, fit and had the strangest hairdo she had ever seen on a male. His eyes cut over to Emerson and took her in, top to toe, standing there frozen and wearing nothing but Steve's Navy tee. Then he grinned.

Crap.

His eyes moved to Steve. So did Emerson's. Steve was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing only shorts that were made of that breathable material with the tiny little dents in it like basketball players wore. They hung loose and super low on his hips, running long but not as long as the basketball ones, partially down his thighs. They showed not only the definition of his hip bones in sexy relief, but most of a pair of knockout muscular thighs and calves. And she would be remiss not to mention a full blown, sunny morning, contacts in view of his well-defined chest with not-too-much, not-too-little, but just the perfect amount of chest hair, jutting collarbone and stubbled jaw. Emerson wasn't sure where his tee shirt had disappeared to and honestly she didn't much care.

Her knees wobbled at the sight.

"Damn, Steve, that has to be a record," the blond guy said and Steve did a half-grin.

"It's not what you think," Steve and Emerson both blurted out at the same time.

The blond guy looked at Steve first and then Emerson, still grinning, as he said, "I'm Detective Danny Williams, Steve's partner."

"I'm Emerson."

"I know," Danny answered, still grinning, his blue eyes dancing. Emerson figured she wasn't in on the joke but let it slide, considering she had to focus on getting dressed and getting out of there without having Steve's talk.

"I brought your bag," Danny continued as he handed it to her and she took it.

"Thanks," she said, feeling like a dork, but happy to have her purse.

"Your Jeep's in the garage."

She looked at him and smiled, more than happy to have her car and repeated, "Thanks again."

"Your keys," he handed them over, along with her phone. She wasn't quite sure why Steve's partner had her phone but she was glad to have it back nonetheless.

Danny's grin faded a bit but didn't go away, and he was now watching her closely as he asked, "You okay after last night?"

So he knew about last night. Emerson wasn't sure what that meant.

"Sure," she replied. "It gives me something juicy to put in my memoirs."

"You got that right," Danny threw back his head and laughed. His laughter was deep and nice so Emerson laughed with him. "Spend enough time around this guy and you'll need extra volumes. But you probably already know that…"

"Danny."

Both of their heads swung to Steve, who hadn't moved, but now his arms were crossed on his chest. His legs were planted and his brows were knit and he looked kind of pissed-off, which was confusing. Maybe he wasn't a morning person. Danny looked at his feet and chuckled.

Emerson threw Steve a look, walked to the coffee table and plopped her purse and keys on it. She unlocked her phone and announced, "I need to go out. To get coffee."

"I have coffee."

Emerson was ready for that answer, having noticed the coffee pot when they came in last night so she added, "I don't like it black…I use Stevia and low fat creamer. Do you have any?".

"No," Steve stated.

"Then I need to get some."

Steve and Danny stared at her while she stared at the face of her cell phone. Six missed calls. Crap. She pressed buttons on her cell, her eyes on it, and said, "I'll just get dressed and pop out."

"Do you mind?" she heard Steve ask and her head came up. "Emmy and I need to talk."

Danny was grinning at her again, as he asked with amusement in his voice, "You need anything else? Breakfast?"

She looked at Danny then at Steve and shook her head as she answered coolly, "No, really, I'll go."

"You're not going," Steve declared.

Emerson narrowed her eyes at Steve and snipped, "I'm going."

"Danny's going."

"Danny has more important things to do with his morning than getting me some coffee creamer," she shot back, looking to Danny for agreement.

But unfortunately, the blond detective was not on her side. Moving toward the door, he said, "No problem. Low fat creamer and Stevia…is that in the little blue packets? Never mind, I'll figure it out."

And then he was gone. And so was her plan for escape.

"Really, that's unnecessary," Emerson said, concentrating on her phone as she scrolled through her missed calls. Five from Lucy and one from Ricky, her personal trainer.

"Emmy."

Her head came up and she looked at Steve. It was time for the talk. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so in an effort to delay she asked, "Do you have any food?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Do you mind?"

Steve's body relaxed and his lips moved…they kind of twitched, like he knew her thoughts and found her amusing, but was trying not to smile. She squelched the desire to throw her phone at him as he offered, "Help yourself."

Dropping the phone in her purse, Emerson walked past Steve, into the kitchen, and went to his fridge. She was stunned to see it was packed with healthy eating options: low-fat yogurt, high-quality, multi-grain bread, tons of fruit and veggies. She spied a half a cantaloupe wrapped in cling film and pulled it out.

"Can I have some cantaloupe?" she asked, turning to Steve.

He tilted his chin up in a nonverbal "yes". There was a cutting board in his sink so she put down the cantaloupe and went to work cleaning the cutting board.

"You're well-stocked." Again, she was delaying 'the talk'.

"My mom went shopping."

Emerson froze and then turned to stare at him as she repeated, "Your mom?"

"Turns out she's not dead," he answered nonchalantly, as if announcing that the sky is blue. "It's a conversation for another time."

"No," she disagreed with wide eyes, "I think this is a perfect time for a 'back from the dead' mother conversation."

"She's ex-CIA," Steve told her with a shrug and Emerson's knees almost buckled. Doris McGarrett was a spy? But before she could process that bit of information, he continued, "She left the agency when she met my dad. But she could only hide out for so long before her past caught up with her. So, to protect our family, she faked her death in that car accident and has been in hiding ever since."

"So she's back here…in Hawaii?"

"She pops in and out when she feels like it."

Emerson blinked quickly and could tell from the expression on his face that this was not a joke. She could also tell that he really didn't want to talk about it. Despite the numerous questions swimming around inside her brain, she simply turned back to the sink and asked, "Will she mind if I eat her cantaloupe?"

Steve's face relaxed and his voice was gentle as he told her, "My mom's a big fan of yours. You could do just about anything you want."

"She was always so good to me," the brunette mused, a smile of remembrance coming to her face. She set down the board, unwrapped the cantaloupe, grabbed a knife out of a big butcher block and started cutting before she added, "I always wished my mom was more like her."

"Be careful what you wish for," was his only reply and Emerson decided not to touch that one with a 10 foot pole. Everyone had grieved for Doris McGarrett but it was obviously different for her children. And then to find out that she wasn't really dead after all that time…she couldn't imagine what Steve and Mary must have gone through. Were probably still going through.

Steve had come to stand at the counter, watching her every move. Her every reaction. Trying to keep her emotions in check, Emerson kept her eyes on her task and simply asked, "Do you want cantaloupe?"

"No, I want to stop talking about cantaloupe and my mother and start talking about your troubles."

Crap.

"Okay," she said, still cutting.

Then she was silent. So was Steve, for a moment. Then he broke the silence.

"Emerson."

He was back to using her full name and his voice held a warning. Her mind raced for an excuse for another delay and it found none. Time to get it over with.

"Um… well. You know my friend Lucy?" she asked, eyes on the melon.

"Yeah."

"She's married to Maka Koa."

"I worked that part out," he replied tightly.

"Now, they're kind of separated."

Silence.

"She's going to file for divorce."

More silence.

"She's up in Wyoming, staying with her Mom."

Emerson looked at the cantaloupe and realized she had cut far too much for just herself. Oh well, at least Doris wouldn't have to worry about cutting up the cantaloupe next time she popped back in. She put down the knife, picked up a chunk of melon and popped it into her mouth.

"Are you done?"

Her eyes slid sideways to look at him and she swallowed, "Um… yeah."

"That's it? Your trouble is that Lucy's filing for divorce?"

Emerson grabbed another chunk and put it into her mouth while she turned to him, leaned her hip against the counter and informed him, "She's my best friend. Her troubles are my troubles."

Steve stared at her for a beat then asked, "So why were you there last night?"

"She needed something and asked me to get it for her."

"She needed something out of Maka's nightstand?"

Hell fire and damnation. Again.

She looked down at the melon and back at Steve and stalled again by saying, "I cut too much melon just for me. You sure you don't want any?"

He shook his head, totally seeing through her, but took a chunk and put it in his mouth. Emerson found watching him chew was weirdly fascinating and decided she was not a dork…she was a freak. Once he swallowed, he said (_his voice kind of scary_), "Emerson Rose Kennedy, I'm not gonna tell you again not to lie to me."

Crap.

She took another chunk of melon and chewed while glaring at him and announced, "You know, this is really none of your business."

"It became my business when you and I were caught in a hail of gunfire."

Hmm. In all fairness, he was kind of right, though she wasn't about to tell him that, nor was she going to give in. She nabbed another chunk of melon, chewed it angrily, and glared at him as she pointed out, "I didn't ask you to be there. You weren't supposed to be there."

"Okay, then it became my business when you walked into Five-0 headquarters yesterday."

"No it didn't."

"Yes, it did."

"No. It didn't."

He took another chunk of melon and threw it in his mouth calmly, then his eyes came back to her and Emerson noticed he was totally oblivious to her glare.

"I don't need your help," she told him, switching subjects and still delaying.

"Right," he said.

"I don't."

"Okay. So maybe you would have had the presence of mind to get out of the line of fire last night, maybe you wouldn't. But with the way you freaked out afterward, I doubt you would have," he reminded her pointedly as she winced at the truth to his statement, "So the fact of the matter is that you're standing here, right now, because of me."

"Yes, I am," she agreed and then added, "But I would have slept in my own bed and could be eating fruit in my own kitchen this morning if you hadn't gone all cave man and handcuffed me to you. And since I have yet to call the police, I figure we're even."

"I am the police," Steve reminded her smugly.

"And I'm sure your superiors would love to hear about how you used your handcuffs last night," she shot back snottily.

Emerson wasn't sure what it was that she said, but something caused his body to tense and his eyes to darken. It was an intense and immediate reaction. He took a step closer to her, narrowed his eyes, and asked, "Do you remember Detective Kelly?"

"Y-yes," she stammered, confused by his sudden change and wondering what Detective Kelly had to do with anything. But she didn't have to wonder for long.

"Last year his wife was ambushed, in their house while preparing dinner, and got a bullet to the chest and another one in her belly simply because a psychopath was using her as leverage to get what he wanted from Chin."

Yikes.

Emerson sucked in breath at his announcement and the way he shared it. He looked angry, his body was tense and she knew this event affected him in a profound way, as it would anyone. She stared up at him, but he wasn't finished talking.

"He found her on the floor, bleeding, and tried to do everything in his power to save her, but couldn't. She died in his arms. And he wanted revenge so badly that he shot a man in the head, killing him. He's got to live with that now…that grief and the fact that he took another man's life."

Oh God.

"Steve," she whispered, but he didn't feel like responding to her soft voice. He came closer and it took a lot of effort, because his intensity was freaking her out, but Emerson stayed where she was, even when she saw his eyes were shining with anger.

"I'm not playing this damn game with you, Emerson. You told me last night you wanted to know why I cuffed you. So now I'll tell you." He took another step forward and continued, "That same night, our other partner and his cousin, Officer Kono Kalakaua, was kidnapped and dumped in the middle of the ocean. She was left to die while Chin had to decide whether to save his wife or his cousin. Kono is a highly trained police officer who can go toe to toe with any criminal in Hawaii, but they got the jump on her and she almost didn't make it out alive."

"Steve…"

"And before Kono, there was Grace. She's Danny's daughter and I love her like she's my own kid," Steve continued angrily, as if he didn't hear her interruption, "Grace was kidnapped by Danny's ex-partner who spent ten years in jail due to Danny's testimony. Danny had to go off the grid, to dark places that no one ever really comes back from, to save his daughter's life and had to threaten to shoot the guy in the head before he'd give up Grace's location. And before Grace, Chin had a bomb strapped around his neck outside of Five-0 headquarters by the guy who shot my father..."

"Okay, I get it," Emerson broke in, on the brink of tears and completely freaked out. Which is apparently what he wanted.

"You're playing with fire, Emmy, and I'm not about to stand around and watch you get burned," he told her forcefully, moving back, but only slightly, "So you tell me right now what you and Lucy are up to."

Emerson gave in. She might as well. He wasn't going to let it go, that was easy enough to read. And anyway, she knew this extent of sharing was taking some effort for him. Between the thing with his mother and the tragedies in his team's lives, she didn't like that he was angry and struggling with unhappy memories, and she further didn't like that she was the cause of it. It made her feel like crap.

"I don't want Lucy to come back here," she blurted, and Steve's body went still, likely preparing for what she would say next. "Maka's good at sweet-talking her back to him and he's a total jerk and no good for her. I won't get into it, but trust me, he's seriously no good for her. While she's gone, I promised to get the goods on Maka, find some evidence to use so the divorce would go well for her."

"So you were searching his place last night to find something on him?"

"Yes."

His body visibly relaxed and Emerson felt her body relax in response. She didn't know his tension was making her tense, and she didn't know what to make of that. She decided not to think about it as she watched him nab another chunk of melon and throw it in his mouth.

"It's covered," he said, mid-chew.

Confused, she stared at him and asked, "What?"

"I'll get what Lucy needs."

"Really?" Emerson breathed, realizing that there would be no more breaking and entering and stupid behavior needed on her part.

"Really," Steve said and she couldn't help but smile at him. This was good, really good for Lucy. His eyes dropped to her mouth and he watched her smile. When they did this, his face, as usual, stayed hard, but his eyes lost the shiny, dangerous anger and became soft and warm. Emerson ignored this because it made her knees wobble.

"How can I possibly repay you?"

"Easy," he answered quickly, as if he'd been expecting the question, "You're having dinner with me tonight and I'm going find out what happened to the Emmy Rose Leigh I used to know..."

"Nothing happened to the old me," she interrupted, miffed at his implication.

Steve shook his head and corrected, "My Emmy was funny, smart and sweet. This new Emerson acts more like Sophie and Laurel."

It felt like he had slapped her across the face and Emerson felt herself flinch at his words as she whispered, "That wasn't nice."

"No, it wasn't, but it's true."

Damn, but he was honest. Still, he didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know the half of it about Maka and he didn't know anything about Rick, Dave and Noah. It wasn't like she was being a bitch for the fun of it. She had reasons and he didn't even bother to find out what they were before he made a judgment. Emerson suddenly didn't care about his offer (_actually, it was more like a commandment_) of dinner so he could get an explanation. He knew, maybe more than anyone (_except Lucy_), how much it would hurt to be compared to her sisters.

"A lot has happened since I last saw you," she said, not about to go into detail, never going to go into detail. He could blow for his explanation.

"Yeah, that's obvious."

It was time for an evasive maneuver. This talk was beginning to sap her strength, suck her energy and make her want to stay in bed for a week eating rolls of chocolate chip cookie dough, bags of cheese puffs and tubs of ice cream (_of all flavors_).

"I can't go to dinner tonight," she told him stiffly, "I'm meeting some friends. Teacher friends. The state has made a lot of changes to our curriculum and we have to get a jumpstart on planning for September."

"Sounds like a fun group," he answered with a smirk, "We'll talk after you meet with your friends."

"It's probably going to be a late night."

"I'll wait."

"It might be a wild night," she added quickly, "When we're stressed, we add cocktails to our planning sessions."

Steve gave her a half-grin and winked as he said, "That'll work."

Damn it.

"Steve..."

"I'll give you a remote for the garage and a key," he told her simply, ignoring her glare. "If you don't come here after you're done, I'll find you. If you make me find you, the handcuffs are going to be the least of your problems."

Emerson sucked in a breath. This talk was not going her way at all.

"Did you just threaten me?"

"Nope."

"Why can't we just deal with this like normal people?" she asked with a sigh.

"You aren't normal people."

"I like to think that I am."

"You're Emmy Rose Leigh."

"I'm that, too."

"I've known you since you were eight."

"So?"

"I've liked you since you were eight," he stated simply and Emerson's senses were suddenly on high alert as Steve added, "That makes you **my** people."

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there.

"Steve..."

"We're not talking about this anymore,"

"We are going to talk about this..."

"We're not."

Emerson glared and Steve threw back his head and laughed. She crossed her arms over her chest and spat out, "This isn't funny."

And it wasn't. But before she could react, his hand snaked out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her forward with a gentle jerk and Emerson's hands came up to shield her fall. They hit his chest right before her hips slammed into his. She tilted her head back to look at him, glared at him, and pushed against his chest. That served no purpose. And then she saw, in close proximity, that his eyes were very warm.

Eek! Danger, danger! Retreat, Emerson Kennedy. Retreat!

"Let me go!" She hissed at him and pushed at his chest once more.

Steve's eyes moved over her face and hair and then settled on her mouth, which she pursed angrily. The minute he saw the pursing of lips he did the half-grin and said softly, "Gotta admit, I'm beginning to like the bitch."

"Stop calling me a bitch."

"Stop acting like one."

"Men suck," she told him in an angry tone, because this was true. "You suck, too. Stop calling me 'bitch'. It's demeaning. I'm not a bitch, I'm a woman. A woman who has had to learn how to stand on her own two feet. And if you don't like the way I've chosen to do that, that's too damn bad."

His fingers slid up her back and into her hair, then twisted it, wrapping it around his hand. It wasn't a rough gesture. It was a sensual one and it made tingles slide across Emerson's scalp, the good kind. She stared at him, realizing that they were ultra-close, and her eyes dropped back to his lips of their own accord. Her body was going pliant and she couldn't control it even if she tried (_though, she didn't_). She knew he could feel her melting into him and she knew this because he drew her in closer and his fist in her hair gently pulled her head back. This was not a good position to be in, plastered against him, arms pinned, head tilted back in a way that her face was an open target for anything he wanted to do. Her eyes shifted to his, the warmer-than-normal warmth was still there and her knees got weak.

Damn.

She tried to pull herself together, mentally chanting "men suck". His face came closer and she watched, frozen and fascinated, mainly because that meant his lips were also coming closer. His blue eyes had melted to pure, liquid ink, and he murmured, "You really think I suck?"

She was absolutely sure that he sucked…and did other wonderfully glorious things with that sexy mouth of his. But all she could say was, "Yes."

Steve managed a full grin this time, a full satisfied grin. It was hot. So hot her knees totally buckled and he took all of her weight into his body as he whispered, "Liar."

She watched as his lips started to get closer and in response Emerson's eyes began to close and her lips parted in preparation for contact. Honestly? She hated to admit it, but she could barely wait.

It was then that the garage door flew open, Emerson's eyes flew open, and both of their heads twisted to watch Danny walk in, carrying a grocery bag.

Thank you God.

Emerson instantly tried to pull out of Steve's arms, but he didn't let her move an inch even though his hand came out of her hair. It only did that to wrap around her back to keep her where she was.

"Hey, sorry," Danny said, grinning like an idiot, not looking sorry at all, and even with the idiot grin Emerson wanted to kiss him for interrupting. She looked at Steve and saw his lips were pressed together and he didn't seem happy.

"Do we need to have the conversation about walking into other people's houses again?" he asked his partner in a voice that proved her theory about his unhappiness correct. "Seriously…from now on, knock."

Danny put the grocery bag on the counter, ignored Steve's pissed-off voice, and replied cheerily, "Yeah, I'm working on that. But for now, I'll just be going."

"Good idea."

Danny lifted a hand in a small wave as he walked across the room, winked at Emerson, and disappeared through the same door he had entered through. Emerson pulled again at Steve's arms and he looked down at her, still with an unhappy expression, but let her go.

Burying the latest episode with Steve deep, deeper, deepest, she ignored it even happened and got herself a coffee mug, poured herself a cup and began to add the sweetener and cream from Danny. All the while she was doing this, Steve watched her moving around his kitchen, his back to the counter, hips against it, arms crossed. She knew this not only because she saw him looking at her, but she also felt it.

"You want a cup?" she asked, pretending not to be affected by his watchful gaze.

"No."

"I'm going to get dressed," she told him. Steve didn't respond so she took her coffee and moved toward the stairs, sensing escape and planning her own grocery store dash, direct to the cookie aisle.

"Emmy," Steve called.

She stopped and turned to him as she answered, "Yeah?"

"Be here tonight when you're done with your friends."

Emerson glared at him and he watched her. Then he went back to the kitchen, threw another chunk of melon into his mouth and started to make his own cup of coffee. She made the instant decision that there was no way in hell she was coming back to his house that night. On that thought, she stomped up to the bathroom, sucked back some coffee, and kicked the door shut with her foot.


	7. Chapter 7 - Sweat It Out

_**Lasonya Shaver - Thanks for your reviews! I hope I can keep up this pace because I am excited about working on this fic!**_

**Author's Note**_** - There always seems to be a chapter in each one of my stories whose sole purpose is to get the readers to the last line(s) of the chapter. This is one of those chapters. It happens in just about every one of my fics and I swear I don't really plan it that way. Not that the rest of this chapter isn't important but the MOST important part is the end. I hope you enjoy it...**_

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**Chapter 7 – Sweat It Out**

_24 Hour Fitness Center in downtown Honolulu, a few hours later…_

"What's up, kid? You sounded desperate on the phone."

Emerson rolled her eyes at her physical trainer, Ricky Awana, as she walked through the sliding glass doors of her gym. After flashing her membership card towards the girl at the counter, she admitted, "I was calling you from the cookie aisle of the Foodland Supermarket."

Raising a dark eyebrow at her, he asked, "And what were we doing there?"

"_**We**_ were ready to eat myself into a processed food coma," she informed him, "I was trying to decide between Chips Ahoy or Nutter Butters…"

"Well, I commend you for stepping away from the cookies," Ricky interrupted her with a grin, "and for coming here instead. Rough night?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," Emerson replied, following him through the gym and toward the locker room. She ignored his curious look and pushed open the door to the women's locker room. After changing into the extra yoga pants and tank top she kept in her locker, Emerson walked back out to where she had left Ricky standing.

"Best cure for a rough night," he said, taking her by the elbow and leading her toward the equipment, "is to sweat it out."

"I want to hit something."

Or someone.

Ricky raised his eyebrow again but simply said, "That can be arranged. Cardio first."

24 Hour Fitness was a popular chain, filled with the usual familiar faces of the men that pumped iron and flexed their muscles every time a female happened to be in the heart of the plethora of testosterone-driven sweaty beasts. Emerson set her water bottle down as Ricky punched her weight and age into the computer of the treadmill, picking one of her usual programs. She wasn't in the mood to chat, so she nodded at Ricky and put her buds in her ears to begin her workout. Ricky knew the drill and wandered over to check on other clients as Emerson picked up speed and glanced up at one of the many TV monitors that were hanging around the gym. She saw an old episode of Gilmore Girls and let out a small chuckle, suddenly feeling her mood lift.

It wasn't until the episode was over that Emerson realized she had been running nonstop for twenty-five minutes and was drenched. She took a gulp of water as she slowed the treadmill to a slow walk before hitting the 'stop' button a couple of minutes later. She wiped down the machine with the paper towel and cleaning solution the gym provided before stretching out her leg muscles and arms, eyeing up the bike that was a couple feet away from her.

"I have a better idea," said a voice from behind her and Ricky suddenly emerged with boxing gloves and a helmet. Grinning, she followed him into the ring in the back room. Needing no prompting, as soon as her trainer had laced her up Emerson headed straight for the heavy bag and started punching and kicking out her frustrations. It helped, of course, that she was picturing the faces of the men in her life instead of the bag. Her father, Noah, Rick, Dave…Steve.

Once she had taken out her frustrations on the bag, they moved into the ring for some sparring.

"That's it!" Ricky shouted, praising her for a sharp move. "You got it!"

Emerson jabbed once left, twice right and hopped back and forth agilely. She was full of fight and frustration and needed some release. She kept lunging forward and Ricky kept defending himself from her attacks. They continued on like that for awhile longer until her trainer finally surrendered. They met in the middle of the ring to knock gloves as Ricky said, "I think that's good for today, kiddo. Before you beat the crap out of me."

"Sorry, Rick," Emerson gave her trainer a sheepish smile as she caught her breath and informed him, "You have the misfortune of being a male today."

"Bad date?" Ricky asked, looking sideways at her as he helped her unlace her gloves. "I thought you had sworn off men."

"Not a date," Emerson admitted, flexing out her fingers once they had been freed from her gloves. "I don't even know how to begin to explain it."

A kidnapping, maybe?

No.

After hearing what had happened to Kono and Danny's daughter, it wouldn't be fair to overly dramatize her own situation. Steve was trying to protect her, even if his methods were a little unorthodox.

"But it had to do with a guy?"

"Not just a guy," she muttered as she rolled her eyes, "a force of nature."

"Well that must have been exciting," Ricky replied, handing over her water bottle and watching her take a sip, "since you're a pretty powerful force of nature yourself. Must have been a pretty good battle."

"Word of warning," Emerson told him after she had swallowed her long drink of water, "in a battle of wits vs. brute strength…brute strength wins. Every time."

Her hot Hawaiian trainer suddenly looked concerned as he asked, "Are you okay?"

Shaking off his concern, she smiled and reassured him, "I'm fine." Picking up her towel, Emerson turned toward the locker rooms and added, "Thanks for helping me sweat it out."

"Anytime," Ricky called as she walked away.

Locker room showers were something that Emerson never messed with, so she stuffed her street clothes into her gym bag and headed out into the Hawaiian sunshine wearing her sweaty workout gear. She was looking forward to a long, hot shower and maybe a quick nap before she met up with her girlfriends that evening. Her outlook on life was better now that she had gotten to take her aggressions out on Ricky and the heavy bag, so she was looking forward to an evening with her girlfriends. And some cocktails.

"Hey."

Emerson practically tripped over her own feet when she heard the familiar voice shouting at her from across the parking lot. Fan-freaking-tastic. Cursing silently under her breath, she turned to see Steve's truck parked beside her car and the man himself was leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you following me?" she asked as she approached, wondering why he couldn't just show up sometime when she was wearing a cocktail dress instead of sweaty workout clothes.

"Who was that?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Who?"

"Your sparring partner…surfer dude."

"You were spying on me?" she asked incredulously, wondering why anything he said surprised her anymore.

"You have good form," Steve replied and then repeated, "The guy?"

"Ricky," Emerson answered, digging through her gym bag for her keys and wondering if someone had maybe slipped some cookies in there as a surprise. "He's my trainer. And my friend."

"You didn't tell me about any friends this morning."

"You didn't ask," she shot back, "You were quite focused about topics of conversation this morning."

"I'm asking now," Steve replied in a tight voice, not cracking a smile and not finding her at all amusing.

"About what?"

He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and asked, "How many friends do you have?"

"A lot," she answered evasively. Unlike this morning, she seemed to have the upper hand in this conversation and she relished it. Smiling impishly, she added, "People like me, proving that I am not really as big a bitch as you seem to think. In fact, I am a very popular girl."

"Let me rephrase," Steve answered tensely, pushing himself away from the truck and moving toward her, "How many friends do you have that want to kiss you?"

Emerson burst out laughing at his comment and a look of confusion registered on Steve's face. Waving her hand at him, she giggled, "Ricky doesn't want to kiss me. Ricky saw me step on a scale in my underwear 75 pounds ago. Trust me, some images stick with you forever."

"Trust **me**," he shot back with a strange look in his eye, "he wants to kiss you. And more."

Fed up with the conversation, Emerson sighed and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"You forgot the remote and the keys when you stormed out this morning."

She hadn't forgotten them. She had purposely not taken them so that she wouldn't have to go back to his house. It seemed like a good plan at the time but she was slowly learning that her plans never seemed to work out the way she expected. But Steve knew that she hadn't taken the keys on purpose. What's more, she knew that he knew. Which was why he was here. Looking quite delicious in his gray cargo pants and a black tee shirt that hugged every single muscled contour of his chest and arms.

And then, because karma was not on her side, Ricky jogged up to them at that moment.

"Em, you forgot your keys," the other man said with a smile as he held her keys out to her.

"There seems to be a lot of that going around," Steve drawled, holding up his own set of keys. Which were attached to the garage remote.

Crap.

"Ricky, this is Commander Steve McGarrett," Emerson quickly made the introductions, "Steve, this is my friend Ricky."

"You the trainer?" Steve asked, giving the young Hawaiian man a once over, even though he already knew the answer to his question.

"Yeah," Ricky replied, not at all intimidated by the badge and gun which were clearly visible at Steve's waist, "You the force of nature?"

Emerson snickered at Ricky's joke and the look on Steve's face, and her snicker was followed closely by a snort. As she covered her face in horror, Steve glared at her and she wanted to sink into the parking lot. But then he trained his glare on Ricky and the two of them stared hard at each other while Emerson had visions of them wrestling to the ground in a tough guy death match and it made her extremely uncomfortable.

"I need cookies," she blurted out.

Both men turned to stare at her and Steve's mouth twitched while Ricky's eyebrows knitted together.

"You gonna be okay with this guy?" Ricky asked, proving that he might be a lunatic. Steve, luckily, showed no visible sign of reaction to the question and Emerson silently thanked the Lord.

"Steve?" she scoffed, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Ricky looked as if he didn't believe her, but moved in for a hug and kissed her forehead before he asked, "See you tomorrow?"

Emerson nodded, wondering where the kiss on the forehead had come from, and looked over at Steve in time to see him scowl at Ricky's retreating back. Not wanting to prolong the scene any further, she picked up their interrupted conversation by asking, "How did you know I was here?

Glaring at her, he drawled, "Have you forgotten what I do for a living?"

Emerson suddenly flashed back to Detective Danny Williams handing her phone back to her that morning and anger flashed in her eyes as she asked, "Did you put a tracking device in my phone?"

The glare turned into a smirk as Steve shook his head and answered, "You really have to stop watching so much TV." When she didn't seem satisfied with his answer, he explained, "I don't need a tracking device. Five-0 has access to the kind of technology that can track your phone as long as it is on."

Emerson felt comforted and disconcerted at the same time as she muttered, "Great, big brother is always watching." Shifting her eyes sideways, she asked cautiously, "So you know where I live too?"

"Yeah."

"Did you follow me from there last night?"

"Yeah."

That really pissed her off and she reacted by hissing, "You know what, Steve, forget finding dirt on Maka. You're fired. I'll find someone else to help me."

"First they'll have to find Koa, which they won't do nearly as fast as I can." Steve pointed out and upon hearing that news, Emerson groaned. That caused Steve to smirk and when she glared at him, he said, "Don't fight it, Emmy."

His voice was soft, gentle and affectionate, and she had to claw at her anger to keep it with her because she liked that voice so much. Looking back up at him, she said softly, "Please go."

Steve's grin didn't fade, but he moved towards her and shoved the key/garage remote combination set in the front pocket of Emerson's gym bag. His eyes came back to hers and he said, "See you tonight. You get drunk, you call me. I'll come get you."

Emerson didn't answer, but just glared at him. Steve ignored the glare, touched her nose with his finger, and then he was gone. As she watched his truck pull away, she was startled by the sound of her phone going off. She dug through her bag and smiled when she saw "Lucy calling" before answering.

"You didn't call me," Lucy began hurriedly, her voice sounding funny.

"Hey," Emerson replied, "You okay?"

"The police called me."

Uh-oh.

"Lucy —"

"Someone shot up my house and Maka is missing."

Emerson blinked and repeated, "Maka is missing?"

She replayed her conversation with Steve in her head and realized that he had said something about finding Maka before they could get any dirt on him.

"The police waited for him at the house and they called his cell, no answer," Lucy was explaining, drawing Emerson back into the conversation, "They went to his office and he hasn't shown up for work for two days, no calls to explain why he wasn't there. Nothing."

Emerson knew Maka had an office. He "worked" for his Uncle Hani, but she always suspected it was a front for something. But Emerson didn't ask because Lucy wouldn't tell. And anyway, she liked Uncle Hani. She had met him at Lucy and Maka's engagement party and he was a hoot. He thought the petite brunette was hilarious and always laughed at her jokes. She didn't like thinking he was a criminal mastermind mafia-type person. That would suck.

"Thank God you weren't there," Lucy breathed. "They told me they used a machine gun, totally shot up my living room. Can you imagine if you were there?"

Yep, Emerson could imagine.

"Do you think I should come home?" she asked.

"No!" Emerson replied quickly, "Whatever Maka is caught up in, you need to stay far, far away from it. Steve will find out what's going on."

"Steve is involved?" Lucy asked and Emerson could immediately hear the tone of her friend's voice change. So, because she was her bestest best friend, Emerson told her about Steve. Every last detail from the moment she walked into Five-0 headquarters to the moment Steve's truck had pulled out of the gym parking lot, including being there during the shooting…which made Lucy scream a little bit.

"Wow," was Lucy's only response when she was done and she sounded like she had just run the hundred yard dash. Wow didn't begin to cover it. And then she added, "Em?"

"Yeah, honey?"

In a very quiet voice, she whispered, "Steve called you _my Emmy _and almost kissed you. In his kitchen. Holy crap."

Emerson let that penetrate her frazzled brain for a moment and then repeated, "Holy crap."

"I think you may want to rethink your vow to hate men forever," she advised.

"Not gonna happen," Emerson argued and then smiled as she added, "But thanks for trying."

The two friends ended their phone call and Emerson quickly got in her jeep and drove home. She went into straight into her bathroom and got into the shower. After 45 minutes of hot water, and the smell of 'Hawaiian Coconut' shampoo and conditioner, she finally turned off and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping one towel around her wet hair and another around her body, she walked into her bedroom and plugged in the blow dryer on her vanity. She was getting excited and was really looking forward to just getting out of the house to have a good time with her friends.

After she finished blow drying her hair, Emerson wriggled into her favorite Victoria's Secret underwear set. She had, after all, no intention of Steve ever seeing it, but she rationalized that there was no harm in feeling sexy even if she was the only one who knew it.

Looking into the mirror, Emerson styled her hair and then began the serious business of applying her makeup. She applied foundation and powder and then expertly expertly lined her eyes with a smoky grey liner, smudging to create the perfect effect. Mascara and lip gloss finished the look before she wandered over to her closet to choose an outfit. She went with her favorite faded denim capri's and a knockout green, fitted top that had such a wide neckline it fell off her shoulder.

Sliding her feet into a pair of jeweled green sandals, she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed out the front door. Five steps away from her Jeep Cherokee, two big, beefy guys came up on either side of Emerson, both with a hand at each of her elbows. One leaned in and asked, "You know Maka Koa?"

Uh-oh.

And that was when Emmy Rose Leigh was kidnapped.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Good Guys

_**It was a rainy Labor Day Sunday in our area so I got some time to write this chapter. Sorry to leave you off on a cliffhanger but I hope that this chapter makes up for it! Enjoy...**_

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**Chapter 8 – The Good Guys**

_Outside Emerson Kennedy's house in Honolulu…_

Emerson fought. Earlier in the day she had pictured the heavy bag at the gym as men in her life. This time she imagined these men were heavy bags. There were two of them and they were bigger than she was but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

The fight was ugly. Emerson kicked, punched, bit, screamed, tugged, and tumbled. Her kidnappers mostly punched, and they were better at it. Plus, there were two of them. So Emerson Rose Kennedy, queen of the 24 Hour Fitness ring, lost. And she got hurt doing it. So hurt that she lost consciousness long enough for the two big goons to carry her into the backseat of the dark sedan parked in her driveway. Before getting knocked out she felt wetness on her face that she was certain was blood coming from a tear in her lip or her nose, or both.

They were huge guys. Both dark, both Hawaiian, both wearing ill-fitting suits and, on one of them, she could see his shoulder holster and the butt of a gun. They may have been strong, but they weren't good kidnappers.

Emerson knew this because she got away.

When she came to she was in the back of the car. And her first thought was that she wished she had had those damn cookies. Firstly, because she was hungry. Secondly, because cookies would make a very good last meal. But after those initial thoughts, reality came crashing in and she felt sick. And groggy. She felt dull pain in too many parts of her body and she was scared out of her ever lovin' mind. Emerson swallowed and it tasted like blood. To avoid throwing up in the backseat of the car, she turned to rest her head against the window and wondered when her friends would notice that she was late. Emerson was never late. When they couldn't get a hold of her on the phone they'd probably call the police.

The police would probably call Steve. And Steve would probably get pissed. At her.

For being stupid.

Damn it.

"Mr. Koa wants to see you," the big guy in the passenger seat turned to tell her once he realized she had regained consciousness.

"Okay," she whispered, deciding to be cooperative in order not to get beaten up, shot at, chained to a bomb, thrown out into the middle of the ocean or the like.

"You know Mr. Koa?" he asked.

"No," she told him, sticking to one word answers. Actually, she knew several Koa's, including Maka, Uncle Hani, and Maka's cousin Ren, but she couldn't believe any of them would kidnap her. They had spent Christmases together for Christ's sake.

The thug in the passenger seat looked at his friend then back at his captive as he informed her, "Mr. Koa knows you."

"Okay," Emerson agreed.

"Mr. Koa also knows you were at Maka's house last night with Commander McGarrett. What were you two doin' there?"

"Lucy Koa is my friend. She left Maka and she wanted some of her stuff. We went to get it for her," she lied.

He looked at his partner as if his partner could confirm the story. His partner shrugged. The guy talking to Emerson lost interest in their conversation and turned back to the front. Emerson looked out the window, trying not to hyperventilate as they pulled to a stop at a red light, and her eyes moved across the street.

Brightly lit and totally still open was a Walgreens. She looked down at her wrists and suddenly realized that they weren't restrained. She looked to the door. It was unlocked. She looked to her kidnappers. They weren't paying any attention to anything going on in the backseat. Emerson didn't know Mr. Koa, but she knew anyone who sent two big goons after a woman was someone she didn't really want to talk to. She'd also heard on a TV show once that it was actually hard to shoot someone, considering bullets were little tiny things, targets were usually moving and most people were bad shots.

So Emerson sighed, said a little prayer, promised herself that tomorrow she was drawing up a will, opened her door and took off like a shot.

"What the hell?!" One of the guys shouted.

The bruised and beaten brunette zigzagged across Kapiolani Blvd, throwing her arms out as she got from the southbound lane, where the traffic was stopped, to the northbound lane, where traffic was flowing. Cars honked and swerved and Emerson ran in her high-heeled sandals as best as she could. She hit the sidewalk and heard one of the big guys pounding behind her, more cars honking and she was worried he was close.

Damn, damn, damn it!

Emerson kept going, not looking back. She was moving on a combination of pure adrenaline and unadulterated fear. The automatic door swooped open and she ran directly to the cash register. She stopped, bent over, breathing heavily as the cashier asked stupidly, "Are you all right?"

She looked at the doors. The Passenger Seat Guy was stopped outside the door and glaring. He pointed at her, moving his mouth saying something no one could hear, and then he turned and jogged away. She watched him go, memorizing as much as she could about what he was wearing and how he looked. When he disappeared, Emerson turned to the cashier and said, "I've just been kidnapped. I need you to call the police."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

In the next fifteen minutes, Emerson reacquainted herself with Five-0 members Chin and Danny, as well as meeting the final member of the team, Kono, because they were the first to the scene after the squad car.

Danny entered the drug store first and made a beeline towards her. She was sitting (_more like shaking like a leaf_) on one of the cash register counters and all the cops were surrounding her. He ignored the greetings of the uniformed officers who were milling around and stopped directly in front of Emerson. He took a moment to look her over and then his hands came up to her neck and his thumb stroked her jaw. To her horror, tears sprung to her eyes.

Mortified, Emerson sniffed, "I'm s-s-s-orry I'm such a wuss."

"You're fine," a soft voice answered gently from beside him and Emerson looked over to see Kono staring at her with concern in her eyes.

"I'll have it together in a second," she said, knowing that what had just happened to her was nothing compared to what had happened to Kono. She couldn't cry in front of this woman.

"Emerson, you're fine," Danny reassured her and for some reason she believed him so she nodded. After a minute she got her tears in check, wiped her face, and took one last deep breath.

Looking up at the team, Emerson pleaded quietly, "Don't call Steve."

"Too late," Chin informed her softly and Emerson felt the tears well up again. She focused on his handsome face as he asked, "Do you know who did this?"

"Maka's men," she answered immediately, "Or Uncle Hani's men. They were taking me to see Mr. Koa. They didn't specify which Mr. Koa they were talking about."

"Damn it," Danny swore and Emerson swung her eyes back to him. There was a fury radiating off him in waves and his face had turned to stone.

"Steve's going to go nuts, isn't he?" she asked but already knew the answer to that.

And then, as if he knew they were talking about him, Steve's truck pulled into the parking lot and stopped in the yellow lined area right in front of the doors. He strode through the doors and all the Walgreens employees took a step back after one glance at him. Emerson figured they did this not only because he looked like he wanted to rip someone's head off, but also because he looked like he could. One of the uniformed cops straightened when Steve arrived at their huddle.

"Didn't realize this was a Five-0 scene, McGarrett," the uniform cop greeted.

"You all right?" Steve ignored him and zeroed in on Emerson.

She nodded.

"You know her?" the other uniform asked.

"Yeah," Steve bit off.

The team had moved away from Steve and Emerson but there were two uniform cops, one youngish-looking Hawaiian guy and one handsome black guy, who were still standing nearby. They looked at Steve, then at Emerson, then at the way Steve was staring at her.

"Oh man," the Hawaiian cop said, realization suddenly dawning on him, "This your girl?"

"Yeah," Steve answered.

"I am not your girl," Emerson snapped and she thought she heard Danny chuckle from somewhere behind Steve.

"Oh man," the black cop repeated and then looked at the team as he said, "We have to take pictures of her injuries before the paramedics check her over and then we'll take her to the station to take her statement and show her mug shots. Since she's your girl…" he paused when Emerson glared at him through her one good eye and then continued on, "I mean, your friend, we will take…"

"I'll take the pictures," Kono stated, "My camera is in the car."

As Kono headed out to the parking lot, Steve informed the young officer, "I'll check her over and take her to the station."

"Works for me," the black cop said.

"Wait!" Emerson cried, jumping off the counter. She winced as the pain settled over her body before she called, "Aren't I supposed to go with you guys?"

They were already on the move but the Hawaiian cop turned back and said, "You can go with McGarrett."

"What if I don't want to go with McGarrett?" she asked.

The black cop looked at Steve and grinned. Then his grin swung to Emerson, but he didn't answer. He and the other uniform walked away.

"Go on vacation," Danny advised Steve, appearing out of nowhere with first aid supplies. Apparently escaping into a Walgreen's was an excellent move. Finally, one of her plans worked out. She watched Steve begin to open the medical supplies as Danny continued, "Seriously, man, just pack her up and go. Let whatever this is with the Koa's blow over. Come back in a month."

"That's good advice," Chin agreed, "Go somewhere far away. Australia."

"New Zealand," Kono chimed in, arriving with her camera and a wink. But she was all business as she took detailed photographs of Emerson's injuries. She moved Emerson over to a more private area so that she could take pictures of the bruises that weren't visible and the moment wasn't at all as uncomfortable as it should have been. Under the bright fluorescent lights of the Walgreen's, purple and green finger-like bruises had become visible on her arms where her captors had manhandled her. When Kono had finished documenting the evidence, she and Emerson walked back to the main part of the store to join the rest of the team. The beautiful young officer whispered words of encouragement to Emerson and squeezed her hand before she looked at Steve and said, "I'm going to get these processed back at HQ, boss."

"And we're going to round up the usual suspects from Koa's crew. When Emerson picks one out of the book, we'll be ready to go," Chin informed his boss before he and Danny followed Kono out the front doors.

As they all left, Emerson stood, still trembling, because let us not forget, she'd just been kidnapped, and watched the automatic doors close behind Steve's team. Her eyes moved to the man himself who was suddenly standing in front of her again as she asked, "Usual suspects?"

Steve ignored her as he gently lifted her back up onto the counter and began to clean the blood from her face, put some Neosporin on her cut lip, and applied an ice pack to her swollen eye. Finally he handed her some ibuprofen and a bottle of water and instructed her to swallow the pills down. He was mostly silent during his ministrations, but his mouth was tight and his eyes were shining with what could only be described as controlled hellfire. Although there were a million questions swimming around in her head about the Koa crew, she didn't ask any of them because Steve didn't seem to be in a question answering kind of mood. If Maka or any member of his family was involved in this, Emerson imagined that they had no idea what was about to happen to them…courtesy of Five-0.

Okay, Emerson thought, maybe Steve and the guys on his team (_plus Kono_) could be moved over to the very short Good Guy list.

"Let's go," Steve said, suddenly lifting her off the counter again as if she were a doll. His hand came out, palm up, toward Emerson and she had no control over what happened next.

She looked at his strong hand and walked forward, ignoring the hand. The petite brunette moved right by it and kept walking until she collided with his hard body, head on. She shoved her face in his chest, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt right next to her cheeks and held on while she let the tremors and tears overwhelm her.

Within a second of making contact with his body, Steve's arms wrapped around his Emmy and he didn't let go.


	9. Chapter 9 - Pieces

**Author's Note**_** - Another rainy day off = cancelled plans + a new chapter! I wanted to share with everyone the subject of a review I received which I thought was important to respond to publicly as well as privately. The reviewer was wondering about Steve's POV in this story and if we were going to see any of his feelings about his relationship with Emerson. As you can see, this story is written mainly from Emerson's POV. I find it fairly hard to write from Steve's POV because he doesn't talk about his relationships and it's hard to gauge his personal feelings from the show. I know as a Navy SEAL he had to learn to keep his emotions compartmentalized so I find it hard to give him a POV and keep true to his character. He's a man of action more than words and so I usually rely on his reactions to what is going on or what others are saying to convey his feelings. Of course, in this fic, he is also the one who has to try and convince Emerson to follow her heart. So his POV will be seen in the conversations with her and through others who will try to explain his behavior to her. **_

_**But that being said, he definitely lets Emerson know his POV in this chapter and I hope you enjoy it!**_

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**Chapter 9 - Pieces**

_Honolulu Police Department, half an hour later…_

When Steve and Emerson walked into the bullpen of the Honolulu Police Department, the busy atmosphere came to an almost complete halt as everyone tried to pretend they weren't watching the newcomers. Emerson knew that they were trying to get a look at Commander McGarrett's new "girl" and she really wished they would all go back to what they were doing. She looked awful and she knew it. She had gotten a good look at herself in the mirror on the visor of Steve's truck, even though he warned her not to look. Her lip was torn, her eye was bruised, blackened and swollen shut, and there was another purplish green bruise creeping along the side of her jaw.

Even though she wasn't Steve's girl, these people seemed to think she was and, if they were anything like the people in her workplace, they talked. There would be no way to keep this a secret and eventually someone she knew or worked with would find out that she had been brought to the police station with her face bashed in. That was not the first impression she wanted to make on her students' parents at the beginning of a new school year.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered as he led her through the station and down a small hallway. As they were leaving she could have sworn she heard Danny's voice shouting for people to get back to work. Emerson smiled, and then winced at the pain it caused, and looked up at Steve as he said, "I had no idea we would walk into that..."

"It's okay," she interrupted and meant it. Emerson realized that he was pissed and if he could have protected her from that, he would have. And that made her feel safe.

For the next year of her life (_not really_), she looked at seven million, two hundred thousand and forty-four (_not really_) mug shots. Emerson found the pictures of both the guys who kidnapped her and the identification of them made Steve's mouth get tight when he saw their faces. She didn't get a chance to ask Steve if they were a part of the Koa crew because she was handed off to a nice, older man named Detective Jimmy Hirono and told him her kidnapping story.

After this was all over, Steve took her out to his truck.

"Aren't you supposed to be going after the Koa's?" Emerson asked as he opened the passenger door and helped her climb up.

"Danny, Chin, and Kono are taking care of the Koa's," he informed her before closing her door and rounding the truck to get in the driver's side.

As he started the truck and expertly guided it onto the street, she asked, "So what are you taking care of?"

"You," he answered simply, never taking his eyes off the road.

"Please take me home," she requested quietly, feeling the sudden urge to crawl into her own bed. Steve didn't answer. What he did do was drive through downtown Honolulu, taking Waialae Avenue all the way into the Kaimuki, a hilly grid of modest residential housing where her bungalow was located. When Steve stopped in front of her house, Emerson got out of the truck and made her way to the front door, refusing to look at the spot where the two goons had grabbed her. Steve took the keys from her hand at the door, let them both in and stopped just inside.

"Stay here, I'm gonna check the house," he ordered and Emerson did as she was told. When he was done, he came back and closed the door behind them before he said, "Emmy, I'm spending the night."

Emerson let out a breath and thanked God.

She nodded and he watched her for a beat before he continued, "I'm gonna do a scan of the neighborhood. Lock the door behind me."

Emmy nodded again and when he left, she locked the door again. Then she walked down the hall and went straight to the linen closet, pulling out the bedding and extra pillows for the futon. Her futon was a fancy one with armrests and everything but it was a pain in the ass to get open because it weighed a ton. She figured she would make the bed when Steve got back because he'd probably be able to pull it out by glaring at it.

She went to her bedroom and dropped the Roman blinds. Emerson had painted her bedroom in a soft eggshell blue. She had a white bed stand, two thin white nightstands on either side, a white dressing table with a big mirror and a tall, narrow seven-drawer lingerie dresser. The sheets on the bed were pale green, the bedspread and pillow shams were a pattern of eggshell blue and green that matched the tile around the fireplace. The big windows had wispy white curtains and custom-made Roman blinds. She took one look at her room and decided she was never going to leave it, ever again, in her whole life.

Unfortunately, before she could do that she had to take out her contacts. Emerson pulled off her silver jewelry and dropped it on the dressing table, flipped off her sandals, yanked the scarf out of her belt loops and pulled off her shirt. She didn't know how long it took to "scan the neighborhood", but, considering Steve was likely thorough in his job, she figured it would take a while.

Therefore, she thought she was safe (_and alone_) in the house for that while. She walked barefoot in her jeans and pretty purple bra to the bathroom, stood at the sink and looked in the mirror.

"Damn," she muttered to herself as she caught another glimpse of her face. There was no way that she was going to get that contact out of her bruised eye and she would just have to take the chances of sleeping with them in. She brought a bruised hand up to touch her bruised jaw and wondered how long it would take until she looked human again when she saw a movement at the bathroom door. Emerson whirled and shrieked (_yes, girlie shrieked_), her hands coming up to cover her chest.

Steve stood there. Obviously it didn't take long to scan the neighborhood and she was seeing that she should have probably closed the bathroom door. So much for her plan of Steve never seeing her favorite Victoria's Secret undergarments. She told herself that she had been kidnapped and wasn't thinking clearly. Yeah, she would be able to get a few days out of that excuse.

Steve's eyes were on her upper body, and even standing all the way across the bathroom, Emerson could tell they were dark. She turned back to the sink, trying to be cool. It wasn't like she was naked or anything. She leaned into the mirror and continued to examine her face when he suddenly materialized behind her in the mirror.

Close behind her.

His hands and his eyes were immediately drawn to the bruises on her arms but then his hand, fingers splayed, touched her side and slid around her midriff. Their eyes watched his movement in the mirror and Emerson's knees did a little wobble.

"We need to make up the futon," she told him, deciding to pretend the wobble didn't happen.

"Why?" he asked.

"So you can sleep there."

"I'm sleeping with you," Steve said, his hand sliding further across her midriff toward her other side, which meant, to accommodate its motion, her body moved back into his.

"No you aren't," she replied, drawing in a quick breath as their bodies made full on contact. He was all man and all muscle and suddenly her spacious master bathroom felt very small.

"Yes I am."

"Steve, I don't want to argue about this."

His eyes moved to hers in the mirror as he answered simply, "Then don't."

Well, how do you respond to that? She tried to move away from him, but he tightened his hold on her body to keep her rooted in place. Swallowing hard, she tried a new tactic as she asked coldly, "Why did you tell the cops I was your girl?"

"You're not?"

"No," she snapped back quickly, "Men suck. Especially men who beat up kindergarten teachers."

Steve's free hand moved up her arm to delicately rest near the bruises above her elbow. She watched the tenderness in his eyes quickly dissolve into fury as he stared at the bruises and then met her eyes again in the mirror as he reminded her, "I capture and punish men who beat up kindergarten teachers."

Emerson shivered at the tone of his voice even though she knew his anger wasn't directed at her and answered, "You still shouldn't have told them that. Everyone at the station now thinks we are in a relationship. When you take away the tourists, this is a pretty small island. Someone in that room will know someone who knows me or someone I work with and…"

"You spent last night in my bed and I'm spending tonight in yours," Steve interrupted as the anger dissipated again and he smirked, "Two nights in a row is the longest committed relationship I've had in years."

She resisted the urge to grin at him as she shook her head and said, "You're not spending the night in my bed."

"Emmy, we're not fighting about this."

"Right," she agreed, "Because I win. I was kidnapped and beaten up, so automatic win."

Steve didn't grin and he wasn't amused by her words. Instead he turned Emerson around in his arms, bent down and brushed his lips against hers before saying, "What happened tonight is going to hit you. And it is going to hit you hard. It's going to haunt you and I won't be able to stop it. But I'm damn sure going to be there when it does…"

"It already hit me," she whispered, looking up into his face, "In the Walgreens. I cried it out. You let me. It's over…"

"Trust me, it's not over," he interrupted, reaching up to stroke the side of her face that wasn't bruised, "And being alone in your bed is not going to feel like a win."

He made sense. He made way too much sense. And she didn't know how to deal with it. So she asked, "Are you going to handcuff me?"

"Only if you want me to."

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be," he told her with a straight face and intensity in his eyes, "I don't have to handcuff you. Because you trust me. You may not be ready to admit it, and that's okay, but you do. I know it and you know it."

She pulled away again…away from his embrace, away from this conversation, away from him. Emerson tried to keep her voice steady as she hissed, "You don't know anything..."

"I know everything," he interrupted again and somehow managed to pull her even closer than she was before. "Because you're mine. Emmy, you missed it when it happened so I'll clue you in…last night, around the time you fell asleep against me, you became mine. In fact, I'm thinking you've been mine for a lot longer than that. You're mine to protect and mine to watch over. I didn't protect you tonight and that is never going to happen again."

Emerson's good eye widened and she stopped breathing as she stared up at him. She couldn't deal with anything he said and shoved against him, but he wasn't moving. Steve's eyes roamed her face and her hair and then they locked on hers.

Whoah, whoah, whoah! This was _not_ happening!

"Step back," she whispered fiercely, squirming against him. "I mean it, Steve, step back."

He did as she asked and she quickly turned around so that she was facing the mirror and the sink again. Bad move. She could still see him in the mirror as she tried to pretend everything else that was happening to her body wasn't happening (_rapid heartbeat, blood warming, nipples hardening_). He stepped closer and Emerson had nowhere to go as she watched his head bend and felt as his mouth hit her neck.

"I like this on you," he said against her neck, and showed her what he meant by rubbing his thumb along the lace covered side of her breast. It felt nice. "I think purple is my new favorite color."

Emerson closed her eyes then opened them again. She knew what she had to do to put an end to this. Her heart beating so fast she thought it would tear right out of her chest, she reached down deep and morphed into SuperBitch as she calmly told him, "Noah liked it, too. He liked it a lot. So much, it's kind of surprising he didn't steal it when he cleaned out my bank accounts, took all my Auntie Ella's gold jewelry and disappeared."

She felt and saw Steve's head come up and she was pretty certain he was looking at her in the mirror. But she pressed on coldly, "He should have taken it, a memento of good times."

"Let's go back to the part about cleaning out your bank accounts," Steve's mouth was close to her ear and she actually felt his deep voice rumble through her body.

"Five thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars, everything I had in savings and checking," she recited, the number burned in her memory, "It took him days of maximum ATM withdrawals, but you have to hand it to him, he stuck to it."

Emerson ignored the scary, pissed-off life force emanating from Steve that filled the room as she opened her medicine cabinet. She pulled out her toothbrush and toothpaste and as she did this, Steve's arm dropped away. Then she felt his presence move away. When she knew he was gone (_and peeked to check_), she put both her hands on the basin and dropped her head.

It had to be done, she told herself.

The brunette brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her tangled mess of hair and went to her room. She closed the door this time and changed into her pajamas (_cream, silky-satin, drawstring pants and a matching camisole with spaghetti straps, gathers under her breasts and a low, straight back that cut just under her shoulder blades_). She got in bed and pulled up the covers. She didn't know where Steve was, but told herself she didn't care, noting that now she was lying to herself.

Emerson was planning her strategy to get all men out of her life (_which included gaining back every one of those seventy-five pounds— and then some— by eating her way through the entire inventory of malasada's from Leonard's Bakery every day for a month, as well as firing Ricky and moving to Wyoming_) when the door opened and Steve walked in. The house behind him was dark and so was the room. As she watched his shadowy form move, he walked right to the bed and sat on the edge like he'd been in the room hundreds of times.

"Steve, the futon is in the second bedroom," she informed him and heard his boot hit the floor. "Or, you can sleep on the couch in the living room." Emerson heard his other boot hit the floor. "There's pillows and blankets on the futon. I got them out," she persevered and he leaned forward a bit, lifted his arms so his hands went between his shoulder blades and tugged off his t-shirt.

"Steve!"

He stood and for a second she thought he was going to leave. Also, she had to admit, for a second she felt unbelievably disappointed.

Instead, he pulled the covers back and settled on his back in the bed. Emerson came up on an elbow and glared at him and said, "You aren't sleeping here."

"What's Noah's last name?"

She blinked in the darkness as she asked, "Excuse me?"

"His last name," Steve repeated.

"Dexter, why?"

"He white?"

"Sorry?"

"Caucasian."

"Yes," she answered, deciding to move away from this strange turn of the conversation. "About the futon—"

"Do you know his birthdate?"

"Steve—"

"Emmy, what's his damn birthday?"

"July twenty-third. Why are you asking me this?"

"You got a social security number?"

Emerson felt a thrill slide through her as she cottoned onto the purpose of his interrogation and she shot up to a sitting position in the bed. She ignored the pain and protested, "Don't you—!"

Steve sat up too, faster than she'd seen anyone move, giving new meaning to "abs of steel". In the blink of an eye she found herself pressed up against those abs and she shouted, "Let go of me!"

"This Noah guy's got her."

Emerson stilled against his chest, went back to blinking, and asked in confusion, "Got who?"

"My old Emmy."

Instantly she felt the tears stinging her eyes, all fight left her and she turned her head to the side. Steve's hands came to either side of her face and he turned it back to look at him as he asked in a gentle voice, "He took her when he disappeared, didn't he?"

Crapity, crap, crap, crap. His gentle voice got her every damn time.

"A piece of her," she whispered.

"Who's got the other pieces?"

Emerson shook her head against his hands. She didn't think the minuscule amount of information she shared on Noah boded well for Noah's future. Steve, she was realizing, was not the kind of guy who screwed around. She couldn't imagine that Noah was still in town, but she knew Rick and Dave were and Emerson didn't want Steve hunting them down and doing whatever. They were jerks, but they were also history. A history she didn't want to have to deal with ever again.

"Please, let me go," she pleaded softly.

"I am never going to screw you over, steal your money, or break your heart. Ever." Steve told her, holding her head so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. "I am not that guy. I am not Noah or Maka or your dad or any other jerk you've encountered in your life. And before this is over, you're going to believe it. You're going to trust it. You're going to depend on it. I'm going to make sure of it."

"Please, Steve, let me go," she whispered through her tears. To Emerson's surprise he did and she immediately turned her back to him and scooted away several inches. He wanted to sleep with her? Fine, they'd sleep. Then tomorrow, she was moving to Wyoming.

But Steve had other ideas. His arm slid under her, hooked at her waist and hauled her back into his body. The second she made contact, his body pressed into Emerson's and his other arm went around her.

"I want her back," he whispered into her hair, and his words made her shiver. Emerson had to close her eyes tight to stop the tears and her thoughts. He went on, "I've decided I like the bitchy Emmy. The way you throw your attitude around is sexy as hell, but I still want the old Emmy Rose Leigh back."

"She's gone," she whispered again.

Steve's arms tightened around her and his mouth came to her ear as he whispered softly and gently, "She's right here."


	10. Chapter 10 - Pink Lady Sandy

**Author's Note**_** - I can see that I did myself in by spoiling you with new chapters every day! It warms my heart to get reviews and msg's about when I'll post a new chapter. I am currently following a Les Mis fic that I am obsessed with and that author sometimes goes weeks between posting chapters. I have left her alone, but now I might start sending her requests because I know how good it feels that people are anxiously awaiting the next installment! **_

_**I have gotten a few questions about whether or not the team knows about Emerson and Steve's past and if you will get a chapter about what they know and how they feel about it. My only answer is that the team was in the reception area of Five-0 Headquarters when Emerson and Steve first reconnected, so they know that they have history. As for the rest, I will try to add a chapter with the team so you can get their point of view on the events of this fic. I'm not sure where I will fit it in to my outline, but I will work on it. **_

_**I hope this chapter is worth the wait...**_

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Pink Lady Sandy**

_Emerson Kennedy's House, the next morning…_

Emerson woke the next morning as the light was trying to force its way through the shades. The first thing she noticed was that she was back in the position she had woken up in yesterday…tight against Steve's side, arm wrapped around his abs, and leg thrown over his muscular thighs. Sometime during the night they had come face to face and Emerson had unwittingly snuggled in.

Who could blame her?

She tilted her head to see that he was still asleep and then rolled away from their intimate embrace. Steve immediately rolled into the space she left and Emerson stilled, but he didn't wake up. She rose from the bed and yanked her thin, cotton cardigan off the hook on the back of the door as she scooted into the bathroom. The brunette stifled a groan when she looked at her reflection. Steve had propped up the pillows so that she slept with her head slightly elevated, which he said would cause the blood to flow from her head to the lower parts of her body and reduce the swelling around her eye. While the swelling had gone down a bit, it was still a horrible dark purple that no amount of makeup was going to conceal. She squeezed some rewetting drops into her eyes to soothe the irritation sleeping in her contacts had caused and then proceeded to brush her teeth, wash her face, and settle her hair into a less messy but still tangled ponytail.

Emerson tiptoed back through the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen as she shrugged on her cardigan. She started a pot of coffee and began to cut some fruit, enough for both her and Steve, then tossed his into a bowl and put it in the fridge. She dumped a few globs of yogurt on her fruit, sprinkled it with some homemade granola, and did what she did every morning since she had moved into this house. She took her bowl and her coffee and went out to her back porch. She sat on the bright cushions of her wicker loveseat with her heels to the edge and her knees pointed skyward. Then she stared out at the sun hitting her yard, ate, and planned her day.

First, she would get rid of Steve.

Second, she would work out with Ricky.

Third, she would call her friends and make up some reason why she didn't show up last night.

And fourth, she would learn how to become a lesbian. In Wyoming.

"Emmy."

She heard her name and twisted around to see Steve standing in the doorway to her porch wearing nothing but his cargo pants, belt undone, looking sleepy and sexy. Damn, he was hot.

So much for becoming a lesbian.

"Hey," Emerson greeted and he gave her that sexy smirk of his. She got up and walked toward him. He moved out of the way as she went past him into the kitchen and put her bowl in the sink. Over her shoulder, she asked, "You want some coffee?"

"Yeah."

He was standing, arms crossed over his bare chest, hip against the counter, watching her move around the kitchen. She pulled down a cup and tried to ignore the way his eyes took in every little movement. Clearing her throat, she offered, "You want some breakfast? Fruit, yogurt and granola?"

"Sounds good."

She nodded and poured his coffee as she asked, "Sugar or milk?"

"Black."

She nodded again and handed him his coffee without looking at him. Then she went to the fridge to get his fruit and the yogurt, all the while gabbing like an idiot.

"Laurel tried to start drinking coffee when she was twelve because she thought it was cool," Emerson told him, just for something to say because she was kind of flipping out. This whole morning was surreal and a tad too intimate. She set the bowl of fruit down and opened a drawer to grab a spoon as she continued, "Mom told her that if she did, she would grow chest hair." Her eyes moved from his chest up to his face and then she asked, "When did you start drinking coffee?"

"When I was twelve."

His delivery was perfect and Emerson burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. It was really funny. She started to pile globs of yogurt on his fruit, still smiling.

"Emmy."

"What?" she asked, her head bent to her task. When she did look up at him, still smiling, she realized her mistake. She should have paid attention to what was happening with Steve instead of the damn yogurt. His face was hard but his eyes were as dark as ink.

Uh oh.

"Steve…"

He closed the distance between them in two strides, pulled the yogurt out of her hands, put it on the counter, and then took the spoon and tossed it into the bowl. Emerson moved to take a step back but she was too late. He leaned in, his arm snaked around her waist, and he drew her body close to his. Steve's other hand went up her back and into the hair at the base of her head. She pulled back and his arms tightened, moving her forward instead.

"This isn't a good idea," she whispered, watching his lips come toward her.

"This is a great idea," he countered.

And then he kissed her.

The hard kiss he had given her in the truck to shut her up the other night was nothing like this one. His lips were hard but they were also effective. Coupled with his tongue, they were ultra-effective. It took two seconds before her knees buckled. Steve took her weight and Emerson lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the fingers of one hand sliding into the soft waves of his hair.

At first he teased her with his tongue, playing with her, making her want it and then taking it away. So she went after it. The minute Emerson's tongue entered his mouth, he sucked it in deeper. Without meaning to, she moaned into his mouth and stood on tiptoe to press herself against him full frontal. When she did that, Steve's head slanted and he leaned in. The hand that was in her hair moved down so that his arm wrapped around her shoulder blades, fingers at her armpit, while the other one was still sliced around her waist. Both arms tightened and Emerson's back arched with his lean, pressing her whole torso and hips into his.

The kiss went even wilder from there. He didn't tease anymore. He meant serious business and Emerson liked Steve's serious business. So did her body.

Finally, he tore his mouth away from hers and stared at her, his eyes so beyond warm and inky it wasn't funny. They were molten. Emerson was in an uncontrollable kissing fog and she was staring at him with eyes half-mast and lips parted.

"Christ," he bit off tersely, his hands moving down to her hips. He lifted her up and Emerson threw her legs around his hips and tensed her arms around his neck. Before she could think a single thought, Steve kissed her again and started walking.

Emerson didn't know how someone could kiss someone while carrying them and walking through three rooms, but he did it. At first she thought they were headed to the couch in the living room but he walked straight through the living room and into the hallway that led toward the bedrooms. She didn't care where they were going. Steven John McGarrett was kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, their bodies pressed hard against each other. He could have taken her to the moon and she wouldn't have cared at all.

Steve had them about two steps away from the bedroom when there was a knock on the door. Not a knock, a _pound_. He stopped kissing Emerson and his head jerked back while hers lifted up. They looked at each other as the pounding came again, louder and more insistent this time.

"What the hell?" Steve muttered.

"Emmy, open the door! I know you're on the back porch!" Lucy's voice came through the door and then pounded again while Emerson's mouth dropped open. What on earth was Lucy doing there? She shouted again, "Don't make me walk back there! I have suitcases!"

"Christ," Steve repeated and dropped Emerson like a hot potato.

"It's Lucy," she told him over the pounding.

"No kidding," he muttered and even though he was joking, he definitely wasn't laughing. Apparently someone wasn't very happy to have been interrupted.

Emerson skirted past him and hurried down the hall to open the door, but before she could open it Steve pulled her back, arm at her waist.

"What are you doing?" she demanded over the pounding as Steve shoved her behind him, unlocked the deadbolt and the chain and opened the door. Lucy was standing there, arm up, mid-pound. She stopped dead when she caught sight of Steve and she gawked. Full on, mouth open, eyes bugged out, _gawked_.

"Holy crap," Lucy breathed when she had regained her powers of speech.

Emerson took that moment to peek around from behind Steve's body and asked, "Lucy, what are you doing here?"

Lucy tore her eyes away from Steve's bare chest (_you could see the effort it took for her to do so) _and looked at her best friend. She took in the messy hair, the black eye, the bruised face, and the pajama's and shouted again, "Holy crap!"

Emerson slid in front of an amused Steve, grabbed Lucy's still upturned wrist and pulled her into the entryway of the house as she asked again, "What are you doing here?"

The blond was still looking between Emerson and Steve and blinking slowly. In a dazed voice, she finally asked, "What?"

"You're supposed to be in Wyoming," her best friend reminded her.

Lucy finally focused on Emerson and explained, "The cops called me and said you had been kidnapped. Since it had to do with Maka and they thought whoever it was might come after me next, the HPD boys warned the local authorities in Wyoming and they came by my mom's house to talk about protection. I packed up in the middle of the night and caught the next flight home." Then realizing where she was and the current scenario of their lives, her eyes narrowed as she asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were kidnapped? And beaten up?"

Uh oh.

"Um…"

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were kidnapped!"

"Lucy, honey…"

"When a girl gets laid, she tells her best friend. When a girl finds a lump, she tells her best friend. When a girl finds a kickass shade of lipstick, she tells her best friend. And, I might add, when a girl gets kidnapped and beaten up, _she tells her best friend_!"

Lucy was shouting by the time she had finished her rant, causing Emerson to whisper, "Lucy, calm down."

"I will not calm down! Do **not** tell me to calm down!" Lucy was still yelling and she turned her eyes toward Steve as she unloaded, "And where were you when this happened, stud?"

Oh no. Lucy was channeling Olivia Newton-John from _Grease_. It was never good when her friend channeled Sandy's Pink Lady from the finale. Lucy didn't normally lose her temper. She was usually sweet as pie, totally Sandy. She had not a single thread of Rizzo in her. But when Lucy channeled Pink Lady Sandy, the results were disastrous.

Emerson glanced up at Steve and he was smirking that sexy smirk of his.

Uh oh.

"Steve, can you get her bags?" Emerson asked and didn't wait for a response. She pulled Lucy into and through the living room directly into the kitchen, then stopped and turned to her as she hissed, "Pull yourself together!"

"Pull myself…pull myself…?" she stammered, eyes wild and wide, "Pull myself together?!" she shouted and then, still shouting, she cried, "Last time I talked to you, you were going out with the girls, had everything sorted out, and were sworn off men forever. Hours later, you've been kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, Mr. Beefcake's in there barely clothed and you're in your _pajamas_, for God's sake!" Lucy finally stopped yelling and looked around in mock confusion as she finished, "Have I entered an alternate universe?"

"I haven't had a chance to call," Emerson muttered lamely.

"That's no excuse."

"We got home late…"

"_We_?"

"Lucy!"

Lucy glared at Emerson and then the brunette watched her best friend's face fall, her anger fade, her eyes start to shimmer, and Pink Lady Sandy was all but a memory.

"I got my best friend kidnapped and beaten up!" Lucy whispered and then burst into tears.

Emerson immediately pulled her friend into her arms and held on tight. As she absorbed Lucy's shaking sobs into her own body, Emerson vowed double revenge against Maka Freakin' Koa, rat bastard.

"Lucy," she murmured into her hair and then saw Steve leaning against the doorframe between the living room and the dining room. He'd put on a tee-shirt and done up his belt. His eyes were on his Emmy Rose Leigh and she could see the warmth from across the room.

"You could have been killed," Lucy whispered into Emerson's shoulder.

"I wasn't," Emerson replied, unable to tear her eyes away from Steve.

"You could have been."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Lucy argued, "Look at your face!"

"She looks beautiful," Steve piped up from across the room, causing Emerson to go weak in the knees.

Lucy looked up at the sound of his voice, pulled out of Emerson's arms and quickly wiped the tears from her face as she said, "Hey Steve."

"Lucy," he greeted her with a nod and a smirk.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." Lucy apologized and Steve simply shrugged off her apology like it wasn't necessary, so she added, "I'm not usually that loud."

Steve smirked and the blond stared at him, transfixed by all that was Steve. Emerson rolled her eyes and caught a look at the clock on the roll back.

"Oh God," she muttered, "I've got to meet Ricky in twenty minutes!" Emerson made a mad dash out of the kitchen, then halted and twirled as she told Lucy, "Have coffee, get settled, I'll be back in a couple of hours and we'll talk. I promise."

She whirled back around and restarted the dash, but only got about four feet and was caught short when Steve threw an arm out as she was about to pass him and caught her around the waist. The brunette let out a loud "_oof_" and heard Steve say to Lucy, "Just a minute."

He grabbed Emerson's hand and dragged her through the living room, down the hall towards the bedroom. She allowed this, only because she didn't want Lucy to hear her struggle and because she was mentally counting to ten before she really lost her cool. When he closed the bedroom door, she turned on him. Smirking, amused Steve was gone and pissed off Steve was in his place.

"You're not going anywhere," he told her in a fierce tone.

"Jesus, Steve," Emerson muttered, "for such an alpha male, you really have to work on the jealousy issues…"

"This is not about jealousy, Emerson," he bit out, "Did you forget what happened to you the last time I let you out of my sight?"

Damn Lucy and her Pink Lady mouth.

Crossing her arms in front of her and digging in for a fight, she shot back, "The entire Honolulu Police Department are out there looking for Maka, his uncle, and their men. Do you really think they'd be stupid enough to try and grab me again?"

"In my experience, criminals aren't that bright," Steve replied tightly. He moved forward and swung Emerson into his body, locked both arms around her waist, and looked down at her as he said, "I'll take you to the gym. After you're done, I'll pick you up and take you back to my place. I don't want you going anywhere alone, so whatever you have to do, wherever you have to go, either I'll take you or I'll arrange for someone to do it."

"Well, that is a complete waste of taxpayer dollars," Emerson told him snottily, "You have a job to do and I have a life to lead. No one is going to let you use the HPD as my personal babysitters."

"Last night you likely pissed off some pretty dangerous people," he reminded her, pulling her closer if possible, "I'm not screwing around with this."

Her moment of denial passed and Emerson sighed, mainly so that he would let her go, but also so that she wouldn't have to think about dangerous people being pissed off at her. She looked up at him and replied, "Fine. But what about Lucy?"

"No one knows Lucy is here," he reasoned and then added, "But if it will make you feel better, she can come to my house too."

"Good."

Steve lowered his face until it was an inch from Emerson's as he added, "But if you think that's going to get you out of that promise you made to me in the kitchen earlier, think again."

"I didn't make you any promise."

"Oh yeah, you did," he said with a smirk and lowered his lips to hers in a sweet reminder.


	11. Chapter 11 - That's What Friends Are For

**Chapter 11 – That's What Friends Are For**

_Emerson's house, later that morning…_

This was how Emerson's morning went…

Steve took her to the gym. Lucy decided to go with, so they all trudged out to the garage. Steve took the keys to _her_ car out of _her_ hand and declared _he_ was going to drive. Standing outside the garage, they had a fight about who was going to drive.

Steve won.

So Steve drove them to the gym. He got out when they arrived and Emerson told him that he didn't need to walk them into the gym. Standing near her Jeep Cherokee in the gym parking lot, they got into a fight about whether he was going to walk them into the gym or not.

Steve won.

When they got in the gym, Steve asked to talk to Ricky 'privately' outside. Standing in the reception area of the gym, Steve and Emerson got into a fight about him talking to Ricky privately outside.

Steve won.

Emerson, fuming, waited until they returned, both stony faced, and noticed that Ricky looked way, way pissed off. She opened her mouth to give it to Steve for being a he-man tough guy jerk with her trainer but he ignored her and asked Lucy for her phone.

"What are you doing?" Lucy asked as she turned over her phone.

"Programming my numbers into your phone. Since your friend is being less than cooperative today, I want _you_ to call me when she's done." Steve answered as he pressed numbers into Lucy's device.

"What about my phone?" Emerson demanded.

"Danny already programmed our numbers into your phone," he answered dismissively as he handed the phone back to Lucy. "Did you delete them?"

"No," she snapped. But he didn't believe her, so he snatched her gym bag from her shoulder and dug her phone out of the front pocket. Ignoring her protests, he unlocked her phone (_she was too angry to ask how_) and checked to see if his numbers were still there. Emerson lunged for her phone, which he didn't allow, and Steve stopped her by pinning her to his frame with one of his strong arms and held her struggling body while he beeped buttons and held the device out of her reach. When he was satisfied, he let go and handed back her phone.

"I hate you," Emerson hissed.

"No, you don't," Steve replied calmly as he grabbed her again, yanked her back against his body, and kissed her…hard, open mouthed and hot…until her knees buckled and she melted into him. Then he let go, smirked, touched her nose, and left.

Jerk.

Emerson whirled around and Lucy was standing there, grinning.

"Oh my God," she teased, "You totally need to jump his sexy bones or you're going to spontaneously combust."

Emerson groaned and stalked off toward the locker room.

Needless to say, the workout with Ricky nearly kicked her ass. She was so pumped up and Ricky was so pissed off, so Emerson pushed herself hard and her trainer ran her ragged. She tried to talk to Ricky a couple of times, but he was not in a talkative mood. He was in a 'kick Emerson's ass' mood, so therefore she quit trying to talk to him when she couldn't talk at all because she was breathing too hard.

After they were done, Emerson went to shower and change while Lucy called Steve. The brunette took her sweet time in the locker room in order to make Steve wait. She did her hair and makeup, pulled on her best pair of 'butt jeans' and a cornflower blue blouse with a silvery thread design on the front, and finished the ensemble with silver-blue sandals. Even though she currently hated Steven John McGarrett, she had been crushing on him since she was eight years old and didn't want to look like garbage when he was hanging around.

She finally breezed through the reception area, but Steve wasn't there. He was outside in the Jeep, which made her efforts at breezing moot. They climbed into the jeep and Lucy happily suggested, "Let's go get some lunch."

Emerson shot her a murderous look and answered quickly, "I'm sure Steve has wasted enough time on us today. He has to get back to work…"

"I know a great place," Steve interrupted and grinned back at Lucy while Emerson rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat.

"Doesn't your team need you?" she asked Steve pointedly, resisting the urge to throttle her best friend.

"Five-0 runs like a well oiled machine," he told them proudly, "Besides, the taxpayers don't mind if I take an hour for lunch."

Emerson pursed her lips as Steve pulled her Jeep into Ala Moana Park and parked next to a bright yellow shrimp truck. He directed the ladies to sit at a nearby picnic table while he went to order. Steve joined them at the table a few minutes later with some lemonades.

"I've never been here," Emerson remarked, looking at the large shrimp with a man's face that was emblazoned on the side of the truck.

"I eat here all the time," Steve told them, "Be warned…if Kamekona offers to treat you to one of his special creations, just say no."

Emerson couldn't help but laugh at the face he made which told them that he hadn't always taken his own advice. Before she could say anything else to him, a large Hawaiian man arrived at their table with plates loaded down with garlic shrimp, shrimp and grits, and shrimp pupu. It all smelled incredibly delicious and Emerson's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Who's your friends, brah?"

"Kamekona, these are my friends Emerson Kennedy and Lucy Koa," Steve said, making the introductions, "Ladies, Kamekona is the owner of this fine establishment."

Emerson and Lucy smiled their greetings as Emerson complimented, "Everything smells delicious."

"Which one is the new Ipo?"

Steve smirked and Emerson immediately frowned as she snapped, "I am not his girlfriend."

"That's not what I heard," Kamekona informed her with a grin.

"What have you heard?" Emerson asked, "And who have you heard it from?"

"I heard you were running around McGarrett's house wearing only his t-shirt the other morning," the large Hawaiian man said with a wink and then added, "And that the cool, calm, always collected Commander here nearly lost his mind when he thought you had been kidnapped last night."

"Danny," Emerson muttered, "has a big mouth." Looking at Steve, she accused, "I told you this was going to happen. Cops gossip worse than teenage girls."

"Who's Danny?" Lucy asked.

"My partner," Steve informed her.

"You want some Spam to put on that eye?" Kamekona offered and Emerson made a face as she shook her head. To Steve he asked, "You find out who did that to your girl, brah?"

"I'm not…"

"We think so," Steve interrupted Emerson's protests, "You ever do any business with the Koa crew?"

Kamekona's eyes got wide as saucers as he looked at Emerson and asked, "You're mixed up with the Koa's?"

"I'm married to one," Lucy admitted, "Maka."

Kamekona let out a low whistle and shook his head, "Not good, brah. Not good at all."

Steve shot Emerson a look as if to prove to her that he was right and she ignored him as she dug into her lunch. Lucy followed suit and they ate in silence as Steve followed his informant back to the shrimp truck and spoke with Kamekona quietly. When he returned, Emerson looked up and asked, "What did you find out about the Koa's?"

"Nothing that I didn't already know," Steve informed them, his mouth drawn into a tight line, "But I did get some other useful information. About Noah Dexter."

As Steve shoveled a forkful of shrimp and rice into his mouth, Lucy choked on her lunch and Emerson exclaimed, "You were serious about going after my ex-boyfriend?"

"Serious as a heart attack," he informed them before taking a long swig of lemonade. When he had swallowed, he added, "He took a piece of you. I'm going to find him and get it back."

"Oh my God," Lucy answered excitedly, "I love you, Steve! Kick the rat bastard's ass."

Emerson frowned as her best friend and her childhood crush clinked forks and then asked, "What did you find out? Is he still in Hawaii?"

Steve hesitated for a moment and then told them, "First of all, his name isn't Noah Dexter. He's got a record and is wanted in two states. He's been conning women, like he conned you, for a long time."

"Son of a bitch," Lucy muttered but Emerson remained silent. She supposed she should have been surprised, but for some reason she wasn't.

"And the jewelry he stole? Your Aunt's jewelry?" Steve continued, "It was worth over sixty five K." Emerson sucked in a breath as he went on, "So that means Dexter didn't steal five grand from you, he stole seventy grand. You were a larger mark than we thought. This guy isn't a small time con man."

"Kamekona told you that?"

"Kono told me that," he corrected and then added, "As far as we can tell, he was running two cons simultaneously. The one with you and one with another woman…much older, disabled, in her early seventies. He got her jewelry, stole her car, and wiped out her retirement account. Between the two of you, he pulled in over three hundred large."

"Holy shit," Emerson and Lucy breathed at the same time. A disabled lady in her seventies? What a jerk.

"What are you going to do?" Lucy wanted to know, hanging on Steve's every word.

"Find him, catch him, put his picture on the news and wait for the other women he's conned to come forward so we can put him away for even longer," came his simple answer.

But it wasn't simple. Not at all. No one had ever done anything like this for her. No one. No one but Steve.

"Thank you," she whispered, hyper aware that Lucy was watching and listening.

He squeezed her hand and looked like he was about to say something more when his phone went off at his hip. Glancing at the number, he excused himself and took the call further away from the table where the ladies couldn't overhear.

"You just got melty."

"What?" Emerson asked, whirling around to face her friend.

"Your stomach," Lucy replied with a smile, "It got all melty when Steve told us what he was going to do to that son of a bitch. What I'm guessing he didn't tell us is that before Noah Dexter becomes the state's problem, he's going to learn not to screw with Steve McGarrett's girl."

"I'm not…"

"Oh, give it a rest," the blond dismissed her, "You've spent the last two nights together and are probably spending every night together for the foreseeable future, his partner and his friends are calling you his girl and he's not correcting them, and he is doing everything in his power to take care of you. Which you are not making very easy, by the way…"

"I don't need him to take care of me," Emerson snapped but knew her words were about to come back and bite her.

"You kind of do need him," Lucy corrected with a knowing look, "You are as sassy and smart as anyone I know, but those skills are not going to save you from guys who carry machine guns. Besides, what's so wrong with being taken care of by a hot guy who obviously thinks the world of you?"

Emerson let those words fester as they finished their lunch in silence. There was little conversation as Steve drove them back to Emerson's house. After checking the house and allowing them to go in, he instructed them to pack their bags so they could head back to his place. When Emerson came out with her suitcase a little while later, she was surprised to see Lucy's father standing in her living room.

"Mr. Thatcher?"

Emerson greeted him with a smile and a big hug but she could see the strain of worry around his mouth. That meant Lucy must have told him what was going on and Emerson triple-vowed revenge against Maka for making Mr. Thatcher worry.

"Beautiful Emmy," he said, kissing her cheek. He'd always called her Beautiful Emmy, even when she was Fatty Fatty Four Eyes. She had known Mr. Thatcher forever and loved him as her own. It was a bummer when he and Lucy's mom got divorced and Mrs. Thatcher had moved back to her family home in Wyoming. Lucy stayed with her dad in Hawaii and he and Emerson recently bonded over their hatred of Maka.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm staying with him for awhile," Lucy told her and gestured outside to where Steve was loading Lucy's suitcases into her father's car.

"Why?" Emerson asked, disappointed.

Turning to her father, Lucy asked, "Dad, can Em and I have a minute?" Mr. Thatcher looked from his daughter to her friend, correctly assessed that he was interrupting a 'girl talk' moment and went out to join Steve at the car. Lucy took Emerson's hand and said, "I know Noah was an asshole and Maka treats me like shit. I know Dave was weird and Rick was a jerk. I know your dad broke your heart when he left and I know you don't ever want to get hurt again. But I also know that you have been in love with Steve McGarrett since you were eight and now he's looking at you like you're lunch and he missed both breakfast and dinner…"

"Lucy…"

"No, Em," Lucy interrupted, "I know you think all men are shit, but there are good ones out there and I think Steve is one of them. So, I'm not going to stand in the way of that. And I'm telling you straight, girlfriend, neither should you." Her hands came to either side of Emerson's face and pulled her down until their foreheads were touching as she added, "Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want to see my best friend with the guy she's been pining for forever. I want that more than anything. You deserve your happy ending, Em."

Tears filled Emerson's eyes, but before she could let them loose Lucy's hands moved away. She gave her friend a wink and a smile and then she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12 - Mrs McGarrett

**Author's Note - _Hey gang! Thanks again for the many reviews and follows and favorites! I'm sorry that I haven't had time to respond, but I have had time to write another chapter! I thought you might think that was more important! This one gives a little bit of Steve's POV as to his feelings for Emerson (not really from him, but from his mother) and the chapter about the team's knowledge/reaction is in the works. But until then, I hope you enjoy..._**

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Mrs. McGarrett**

_The McGarrett home, the next morning…_

Although she didn't remember exactly how she had gotten there, Emerson woke up alone in Steve's bed the next morning. She did remember the ride to Steve's house and how he had calmed her fears for best friend's safety by telling her that he had his best team watching Lucy's dad's house. She remembered the wine he had plied her with that went along with the dinner they had prepared together…Steve on the grill and Emerson at the stove. She remembered sitting out on his patio, yet another glass of wine in hand, as she enjoyed the peaceful view of the mighty Pacific ocean…

Ah, Emerson remembered suddenly, the patio.

Steve had come up behind her, refilled her wine glass, and laid his big strong hands on her shoulders. Murmuring something about her being tight, those big strong hands had gone to work on the knots in her neck and shoulders. Emerson had wanted to stay tense, just to be contrary, but couldn't. His hands were magic and he expertly went right after the kinks. The massage was not sensual to get her turned on…he was genuinely trying to relieve her stress. And slowly, as Lucy's parting words and thoughts of Steve's kindness and his mission to keep her safe rumbled around in her brain, Emerson had fallen asleep in the deck chair.

She had no memory of him gently removing the wine glass from her hand or of him protectively carrying his Emmy Rose Leigh up to his bed. She vaguely remembered waking once in the middle of the night cuddled against him, but must have drifted back to sleep rather quickly.

But now she was alone in the bed and as she held on tight to Steve's empty pillow, she recognized the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. Emerson lazily lounged in the fresh, crisp sheets and found herself thinking wicked thoughts of surprising Steve in the shower and helping him lather up when she suddenly heard the shower turn off. She reviewed her options and decided to pretend that she was still asleep. Maybe if she was good enough at it, Steve would get tired of waiting and go out hunting down her ex-boyfriend or the mobsters she had managed to piss off without even trying.

That's when she felt the bed depress as Steve sat down on it. Emerson continued to feign sleep as she felt the covers slide down her body. It was then she realized she was wearing his soft NAVY t-shirt and her satin panties, meaning he had done more than simply carry her to bed the previous evening. First she had a silent freak out that she had once again slept next to Steve nearly naked and then she had a silent freak out about him seeing her body when he had changed her clothes. She wasn't ready for that.

"Emmy," Steve called her name softly, his arms sliding around her so that one was at her back and the other snaked across her belly. She kept pretending to sleep, which was hard because the hand moving across her belly felt really good. His fingers went into the hair at the back of her head as he whispered, "Babe, wake up."

Emerson knew she couldn't ignore him much longer because he would think she was dead. She realized her plan was going south, way south, when his fingers sifted through her hair a few inches and then twisted around it. She felt his hand fist and her head pulled back gently. A second later his mouth was against hers in the sweetest good morning kiss she had ever experienced.

"Emmy," he said against her lips and Emerson couldn't pull it off any longer. She opened her eyes. As his lips were against hers, she was close enough to see and feel the heat radiating from his gaze.

"Hey," she whispered and luckily her voice sounded sleepy.

"Hey yourself," he said against her mouth, and something about those soft words, said by Steve, in his bed, in the morning, against her mouth made her melt. When her body pressed deeper into him, his eyes went molten and that was it. No more stall tactics.

He kissed her, hard and sweet at the same time. He was a seriously good kisser. Their mostly naked bodies were pressed up against each other and her t-shirt had hiked up enough to reveal some of her bare stomach. The skin on skin contact in that intimate region sent a jolt through her that could have lit up the Manhattan skyline.

This was Steven McGarrett and he had always been, in her heart, her special guy. So Emerson gave up the fight and kissed him back. When she did, he groaned into her mouth and rolled her onto her back, positioning his body on top of hers. The groan sounded and felt good. So good that Emerson wrapped her arms around him and started to explore with her hands, wanting to make him do it again. Her fingertips trailed down his muscular back until they hit the waistband of his shorts and then she hesitated.

Steve's head came up and she focused on him, barely. She knew she her eyes were hooded and she was breathing heavily. Which must have been why he shook his head and hissed, "God, you're beautiful."

Emerson smiled and slid her hands up his back as she murmured, "You're not too bad yourself."

"Are we done playing games, Emmy?"

A snappy comeback was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it whole. In the last 24 hours she had been kidnapped by mob enforcers, realized that dangerous people were pissed at her, and learned her ex was a con man. And through it all, Steve had been right by her side. Letting her eyes roam over his handsome face, she whispered, "Things like this don't happen to girls like me. I haven't handled it…well."

"Things like what?"

"Machine guns, kidnapping attempts, con men, mobsters, you."

"Well, thanks for lumping me in with that group," he answered with a chuckle, ducking his head to let his lips go to work on her neck.

As he kissed from her neck up to her ear, Emerson could barely control her senses as she whispered, "You know what I mean."

He didn't answer because he was too busy kissing a trail along her neck, jaw, behind her ear while his hands began to travel over her hips, up along her sides to her breasts. In what seemed like seconds, he had her wild. She wanted more. More kissing, more touching, more Steve. All of him.

And that is when she heard a vaguely familiar voice call, "Steven!"

Emerson's eyes shot open as Steve cursed and muttered against her neck, "You have got to be kidding me."

"Who is that?"

"My mother."

Oh…my…God!

She was lying nearly naked underneath Steve, in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, planning to worship his body in every way imaginable and his _mother_ was downstairs? Emerson froze for an instant and then pushed his body off of hers as she sat straight up and repeated in horror, "Your mother is here?"

"I called her last night," he told her and then shouted toward the doorway, "We'll be right down!"

Emerson flew into a tizzy.

"Holy crap. Oh my God. Holy Crap," she chanted as she crawled over him and jumped up off the bed, preparing to flee into the bathroom. But her escape was thwarted when Steve's arms closed around her.

"Emmy, calm down."

"Your mother is here!" she shouted at him, forgetting for a moment that the bedroom door was open. He smirked and Emerson wanted to smack him. What there was to grin about, she did not know and she squirmed against him as she said, "Let me go. I have to get dressed. You have to get dressed."

She gave another tug, but his arms went tighter as he assured her, "Em, calm down. Mom likes you. She's always liked you."

Emerson gawked up at him. She knew that. Mrs. McGarrett had always been nice to her. She was a nice lady. She sometimes wondered why Doris McGarrett was friends with her mother, but then again she was friends with everybody. Except for that whole faking her own death thing, Emerson thought she was fantastic.

"I know that," she snapped, "but she doesn't want to catch me up here with you in your boxer shorts and me in nothing but your Navy t-shirt and a pair of panties!"

"I'm sure you'll look great in whatever you're wearing."

Emerson turned five shades of red as Doris' voice trailed up the stairs and Steve's eyes sparkled as he laughed at her reaction.

"Just get down here so I can get a good look at the grown up version of you," Steve's mother continued calling from the living room, "I brought croissants and coconut filled Malasada's and they're still warm, so move your butts!"

Steve grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants from one of his drawers and then gave Emerson's stunned body a little shove toward the door as he said, "You heard the lady."

Emerson whirled on Steve, completely at a loss for words, and glared at him. Steve took one look at her and laughed again, so she lifted her hands and gave him a big old shove. He didn't move (_of course_) but instead his arms closed around her and pulled her close. His face went to her neck and he was still laughing so she could feel it against her skin.

"I hate you," she whispered.

His head came up and he was full on smiling, which made her knees wobble even though she was angry. He whispered back, "No you don't."

Emerson pulled out of his arms, ran to her suitcase and had a pair of jeans on in moments. Steve also dressed quickly, grabbed her hand and ignored her glare as they headed downstairs to the kitchen, where they were greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a smiling Doris McGarrett.

She looked exactly the same as when Emerson had last seen her before her "accident". Doris walked right up to her and gave her a tight hug. Automatically Emerson wrapped her arms around Steve's mother and they stayed that way for a good five minutes. Finally, Doris stepped back and her hands moved up to gently squeeze Emerson's upper arms.

"Well, look at you," she smiled brightly, "You were always a pretty little thing, but now you aren't even giving Laurel and Sophie a run for their money. You have left them in the dust."

Emerson blinked quickly at the surprising and heartfelt compliment. And then she forgot all about her black eye and bruised face and her days as Fatty Fatty Four Eyes. That was how a mother was supposed to make you feel.

"We're going to have such a good time together today, catching up on gossip and old times," Doris continued as she opened Steve's cabinets to find something to serve the breakfast pastries on. As she began to arrange them on a plate, she added, "We'll have to call Mary and make it a girls' day."

"A girls' day?" Emerson repeated, sliding her eyes to where Steve had begun taking coffee mugs and plates to the table.

"Oh no, Steve," his mother corrected, "Let's eat outside. It's a gorgeous morning and we would be foolish to waste this view."

Steve nodded in agreement and changed direction to head out to the patio. Emerson shook the confusion out of her muddled brain and automatically grabbed the cantaloupe she had cut up the other morning and the pot of coffee as she followed them outside.

Once they had settled into their breakfast, Steve answered the question Emerson had never asked by saying, "I have to go down to headquarters this morning to interview Hani Koa, so mom's going to stay with you."

"You're my babysitter?" Emerson asked in shock, turning toward Doris.

Doris finished her bite of croissant and then answered, "I prefer the term bodyguard." She watched carefully as Emerson opened her mouth and then quickly closed it again as she glared at Steve and then chuckled, "You didn't really think we would leave you alone with the Koa's still out there unaccounted for, did you?"

"I…um…well," Emerson stuttered, "No. I guess I didn't really think about it."

"Well, luckily for you, I did," Steve told her with a grin before he popped a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth. After he had chewed and swallowed, he added, "And you can't do any better than a CIA trained operative who also enjoys shopping and going out to lunch."

"I'm sure there are other things you have to do…"

"Can't think of anything more important than keeping our girl safe," Doris interrupted Emerson's protests as she watched her son drape his arm across the back of the petite brunette's chair. With a smile, Doris took a sip of her coffee and pretended to ignore the pink color creeping into Emerson's cheeks.

Turning to Steve, Emerson asked, "Why are you interviewing Uncle Hani?"

Doris sat up straighter in her chair, stopped smiling, and said, "I think the better question is why are you on a first name basis with the man who tried to kidnap you?"

"Uncle Hani had me kidnapped?" Emerson exclaimed, her eyes wide as saucers. "Oh my God! That's great!"

Both Steve and Doris stared at her as if she had suddenly grown two extra heads.

"Uncle Hani loves me!" she told them quickly, "He's hilarious! We're always partners during euchre games after Thanksgiving dinner. We kick _ass_! I didn't know it was Uncle Hani who kidnapped me. No wonder his henchman said he knew me."

"Emmy…"

"This is good news, Steve," Emerson continued and dramatically swiped her hand over her forehead, "Whew."

"Did they hit her over the head the other night?" Doris asked, looking at her son in concern.

"Emmy," Steve continued, ignoring his mother, "Hani Koa is not a good guy. He's one of the most dangerous men on the island."

"But he'd never hurt me," Emerson protested, "He loves me and he really loves Lucy. He was always saying that he wished Lucy had married his nephew Ren instead of Maka. God, Ren is hot."

"He did hurt you, honey," Doris added, gesturing to her face, "His men did that. On his orders."

"But he …"

"Ren Koa is not a good guy either," Steve interrupted in a controlled voice, his face growing dark, "And Uncle Hani would torture his grandmother if he felt it served a purpose."

"Seriously?" Emerson scoffed.

"Seriously," Steve repeated.

"I've played euchre with the man, for crying out loud," she reminded them and then asked pointedly, "Have you played euchre with the man?"

"No," Steve conceded and then added, "But I have been in a vacant warehouse staring at two men with bullet holes in their foreheads. Ordered by Hani."

Emerson stopped smiling and Doris reached across the table to grab her hand.

Steve watched the smile fade from her sweet lips and his eyes moved to hers as he muttered, "I don't know which is worse…you playing euchre with Hani Koa or you thinking Ren Koa is hot."

"I…"

Steve's hand came up under her chin and brought her face close to his as he said fiercely, "I told you that I wasn't playing any more games."

"I wasn't…"

"Jesus, Steve," Doris interrupted sharply, "Don't scare her. She's been through enough already."

His eyes darted over to his mother and he glared at her as he responded, "I have to scare her, ma. Because she has to start taking this shit seriously."

"I am taking it seriously," Emerson whispered.

"Prove it," he bit out, his eyes locked on hers.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she challenged him, not looking away from his gaze, "Of my own free will this time. No handcuffs required."

And with that statement, Doris stood up and announced, "I need more fruit. Who wants more fruit? Anybody? No? Well, I'll cut some in case you change your minds. Yes, I will just go now and cut a lot more fruit."

When Steve's mother had escaped into the safety of the kitchen, Emerson spat out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" Steve repeated, letting go of her face and shoving back from her, "What are _you_ doing? You practically danced for joy when I told you that a crime lord had you kidnapped. Even my mother was worried you had a concussion or something."

"Don't do things like that in front of her!"

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Don't put your arm around me or grab my face or go all macho-protective-guy in front of her," Emerson replied angrily, "She'll think we are together."

"She walked into my house this morning while you were underneath me in my bed and I was fresh out of the shower," he reminded her with that maddening smirk, "I think she knows we're together. Besides, you're the one who brought up the handcuffs."

Emerson sucked in a deep breath and hissed, "When she comes back, you tell her this isn't what it seems."

"And what should I tell her this is?"

"That I am in trouble and you are helping me sort it out and I am staying here until…"

"She already knows you're in trouble," he reminded her, "That's why she's here. Besides, after what happened in my bed this morning we both know that what's going on between us is a hell of a lot more complicated than that. I'm not lying to my mother."

"She pretended to be dead for sixteen years," Emerson shot back, "I think she can take it."

"Ouch," Doris said, coming back out onto the patio and making Emerson cringe. "I guess I deserved that."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McGarrett," Emerson stuttered, blushing a bright shade of red, "I didn't mean…"

"Call me Doris," she returned with a smile as she spooned cantaloupe onto Emerson's plate, "And don't worry about it. It's not any worse than what he's said to me already."

Steve grinned and ate a piece of cantaloupe off of Emerson's plate and pressed himself closer so that their thighs were touching. Seeing this, Doris sighed in motherly contentment and began to blather on happily about everyone in the old neighborhood. Apparently the subject of Hani Koa and his crew was closed.

For the next twenty minutes Doris peppered Emerson with questions so Steve found out that she had been teaching kindergarten for eight years and that she had been named Honolulu's Teacher of the Year twice in that time. His arm slid around her shoulder as he also learned that Emerson's sisters hadn't inherited as much from Aunt Ella because she had always been the favorite, that she had bought and fixed up her own house about five years ago, and that she was allergic to beets and cheap cosmetics.

Finally, Steve stood up and announced, "I have to get changed and go to work. You two better not get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

He took one final swig of his coffee before he leaned down and kissed Emerson, hot and deep. It started as a good-bye kiss but ended up as an Emerson holding on for dear life kissing him back hotter and deeper kiss.

"Children," Doris whispered, clearing her throat and reminding them that she was there. Emerson's whole body jerked and her head whipped around to see Steve's mother smiling at them. To her son, she simply said, "You're going to be late."

Steve grinned at his mother, touched Emerson's nose, and then was gone.

Mortified, Emerson stared down at her plate for a few moments before she whispered, "I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable. He's not really good with boundaries and I just got caught up…"

"Why would that make me uncomfortable?" Doris asked, refilling Emerson's coffee cup. "You're both adults."

"It made me uncomfortable," the younger woman mumbled before popping a piece of Malasada into her mouth.

Doris laughed and her eyes sparkled as she asked, "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for Steve to realize that he was in love with you?"

Emerson stopped chewing and practically swallowed her donut whole as she repeated, "In love with me?"

Doris reached over and covered her hand as she explained, "Sweetheart, you are the only person who could ever get through to Steve. You made him laugh when the world wasn't funny and he could talk to you because you didn't want anything more from him than friendship. He was always able to be himself around you and he knew that. He appreciated it and he sought it out. He may have been too immature at the time to realize what it meant or how important it was, but he knows it now."

Emerson was stunned by her words and honestly didn't know how to respond. Doris made her out to be some sort of savior. Didn't she remember that she was talking to Fatty Fatty Four Eyes?

"I think you give me too much credit," Emerson finally managed to say as she aimlessly licked some coconut filling off her fingers, "This thing with Steve is…well, I don't know what it is. I haven't seen him since Jack's funeral and…"

"I know," she interrupted quietly.

"You do?"

"He told me," Doris admitted and then added, "He also told me you've had some trouble with the men in your life and that you have trouble trusting…"

"He told you that?" Emerson burst in, mortified.

Doris studied her carefully for a moment and then lifted a hand to tuck a loose piece of Emerson's hair behind her ear as she said, "I know that I'm not going to win any awards for mother of the year, but I do know a thing or two about trust. How to break it and how to build it back up again. So Emmy, I know you're looking for a way to protect your heart and nobody blames you for that. But trust me when I tell you that you're looking in the wrong direction. Because the best way to protect your heart is to trust it to a man who will always take care of it for you. And my son, despite everything Jack and I did to screw him up, is the best man for that job."


End file.
